


Remember-Me-Not

by Tupsu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Iddy iddy bang bang 2017, M/M, Mind Games, Redemption, Sirius Black Lives, Slow Burn, Telepathic Sex, post-OotP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 74,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tupsu/pseuds/Tupsu
Summary: The first task Harry is given by the Order is not what he would’ve wanted, but he is determined to raise above it: He can manage sharing the Grimmauld Place with Draco Malfoy for a few days. However, when Harry finds himself allowing Malfoy to teach him legilimency, everything starts to get complicated. It’s a dangerous game to play: With so many secrets around, it is hard to know who to trust. Especially when true and false memories start to muddle together, all bets are off.





	1. An unwelcome guest arrives

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts sometime around the time book five ended - with some changes to nudge it clearly into a canon divergence and beyond. Sirius didn’t fall through the veil but was hit by a curse that made him stumble the other way. Lucius Malfoy wasn’t miraculously convicted for what happened at the department of Mysteries. Harry actually gets to move into Grimmauld place, and everything looks to be getting better. Until a certain someone comes crashing through it all, that is.
> 
> In other words: Conveniently, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are forced to be around each other long enough for it to get uncomfortable. Get ready to doing things the muggle way, keeping secrets and snapping, snarling and yelling! Now with additional nightmares and mindfucking in all definitions of it. This should also serve as a warning that there are elements here that could read as dub-con. As an additional heads-up, death and loss feature as themes throughout the fic. For those that prefer to know if happy endings and fluff is guaranteed I recommend a peek at the notes at the end of the chapter.
> 
> I wrote this as pure, uncontrolled guilty pleasure. This is iddy as it comes. Some things are alike canon, some things most certainly more fanon. Plot makes about as much sense as it needs to, and not one ounce more.

At the beginning of the summer of 1996, the Malfoy Manor burned. It was the cause of a great deal of whispering - the flames went untamed all through the night, which made people sure that malicious magic was behind the fire. When the fire finally died by itself during the brightening dawn, there wasn’t much left of the manor. What the bravest onlookers found as they dared closer to the ruins of collapsed walls and charred beams were the remains of two bodies, black as coal and barely human in form. As horrified the finders were by what they saw, it didn’t go unnoticed that the bodies lay in front of what had been the great entrance of the manor, side by side, almost like they’d been placed there to be found.

No arrest had been made by the time the Daily Prophet made the event their front page the following morning. The haunting image that they used to illustrate the story was that of the smoking ruins of the manor against the early morning grey sky and that of young Mr. Malfoy, standing in front of the sight looking like he had not quite understood what had happened.

The paper had few facts to share and most of the article was spent on speculating about probable explanations. The fact that two strong, capable wizards had not apparated into safety was curious, curious indeed. However, thanks to the questionable standing of the Malfoys in these troubled times, the Daily Prophet reporter who broke the news refrained from pointing fingers at anyone specific. It was a sensitive issue: Lucius Malfoy had only days before been sent home because the Wizengamot had failed to find enough evidence to convict him. This, in turn, had left many people desperate for some justice.

Harry Potter first saw the paper little past noon when he sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the Order meeting to start. He’d been too busy with unpacking his things in his new room at the Grimmauld Place that he hadn’t found the time to even glance at the paper earlier. The happiness he’d felt about finally getting to live with his godfather was replaced by a feeling that he had a hard time understanding. He’d never _liked_ the Malfoys, but the picture of Draco Malfoy turning his head just slightly so that his unseeing eyes could be seen for a brief moment left Harry feeling sad and angry and confused about why he’d felt any of it in the first place.

“Harry,” Hermione said with a soft voice. She’d clearly noticed that Harry had been upset by the story and approuched him carefully. “Are you alright?” she continued as she sat down in the chair next to him.

“Yeah. Of course,” Harry replied without thinking about it. He folded the paper so that the picture disappeared and only the headline “ _Malfoy Manor Burned – Two Dead_ ” could be seen. “It’s just- “ He shrugged, not really knowing what he wanted to say. This year had already been exhausting enough and he’d thought the worst was behind them. Now it seemed like there would be no rest for them even during the summer.

“Awful”, Hermione replied for him. She moved the Prophet closer to herself but didn’t, thankfully, unfold it again. “Who do you think did it?”

Harry hadn’t read the article since he’d been caught by the picture, but he knew it wasn’t likely that the Daily Prophet wrote something useful. “It could be the Death Eaters again, like with everything else lately. I just don’t know why they’d have a problem with the Malfoys. I mean, it could be connected to what happened in at the Department of the Mysteries. Malfoys cannot be popular after messing up publicly like that.”

That was when Ron walked into the room. He glanced at the table, saw the paper and quickly picked up on what they’d been talking about. “What they wrote in the paper is absolute bogus. No one is going to buy Malfoys committing suicide. Why would they bother burning the place down if that was the case? Can you even imagine them feeling so 'ashamed of what they've been associated with now' that they'd choose to give up?” Ron asked, paraphrasing from the Prophet.

Harry agreed. Malfoys preferring the pureblood ideology wasn't exactly news. It was like the Daily Prophet to make a story that suited them the best. The death of the Malfoys was bound to get political, and the many ties that the Malfoys had to both the Ministry and the Death Eaters made it uncomfortable to find someone to blame. Although both the Daily Prophet had finally admitted that Voldemort was back after the battle at the Department of Mysteries had made it into the news that the Ministry approved, their style of reporting had not changed. The Prophet was still unwilling to make the connection between bad news and Death Eaters like that could somehow make the problem go away.

Before they could discuss the shortcomings of the Prophet further, soft popping noises filled the air as their guests started apparating to the front door. A moment later a louder thump followed by a cloud of ash in the air warned them that more Weasleys had joined them through the floo network. Soon the kitchen table had been transfigured larger to make room for all of them. The people invited for this meeting presented a crowd of familiar faces: Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks, Mrs. and battered Mr. Weasley, as well as Fred and George were all chatting away happily.

Remus and Sirius were the last to join them. On their way down the stairs, Remus was steadying Sirius who was still extremely weak from the yet to be identified spell that had caught him at the tail end of the Battle of the Department of the Mysteries. Sirius had been confined to bedrest ever since, but had refused to be left out of the meeting and had complained long and loud enough for the others to give in. He slumped in his chair when Remus unceremoniously dropped him there. His skin had a greenish tone to it, but he managed to give Harry a grin when their eyes met.

When everyone had quieted down, Dumbledore stood up to start the meeting. “Now that the Minister of Magic has finally gotten back to his senses and acknowledged that there is a fight to be fought, I wish we could take a moment to rest. But it is not so, and I know that you all are aware of that. Voldemort is getting brasher and his followers have been active. There is an ever-increasing amount of disappearances and other dark deeds committed all around the country.  However, you all already know why I’ve called you all here today.” He took a moment to look through the faces in attendance and Harry noticed how Dumbledore’s gaze paused at each of the new people that had been allowed to join this time. Harry, Hermione and Ron had all witnessed what had happened at the Department of Mysteries – Fred and George had both protested until they had been let in too. They would no longer need to eavesdrop on these meetings. Voldemort would not leave them alone so it was only right that the Order also acknowledged this. Harry made sure to face Dumbledore’s gaze confidently as it paused at him. This was his place. He would be part of the Order from now on. “I am, of course, speaking of the urgent matter of what happened last night at the Malfoy Manor.”

“Do we have proof of Death Eater involvement? Or should we suspect one of our own?” Remus asked calmly.

“Thinking about what happened during the last war,” Moody said and stopped for a moment. Everybody got a bit grimmer with the words. There were many missing faces. “Lucius Malfoy got away scot-free last time even though there was some hard evidence on him. This might be someone who decided it shouldn’t happen again now that a war is upon us once more.”

“That is a possibility,” Dumbledore said. “We do not know either way. If this was something the Malfoys brought on themselves by angering Voldemort, I find it curious that there was no Dark Mark in the skies to make this an example of his power. It could’ve been Voldemort’s followers fighting each other. We do not know and that worries me.”

“What do you want the Order to do about it?” Tonks asked.

“I want people looking into it and finding the truth. This doesn’t seem like something that Voldemort would use to strike terror at the Wizarding World – there are better targets for that. This could’ve been a sign of weakness and if it was that, we need to use it to get the upper hand. We cannot afford to wait that Voldemort accidentally reveals his plan. Which reminds me– “ Dumbledore turned to look directly at Harry now. “Harry, my boy, there’s no doubting you have a connection to Voldemort, and that he is aware of it now.”

“You mean the dreams,” Harry replied.

“Exactly,” Dumbledore said. “I need you to keep practising with your Occulemency. Since it’s now summer time and you’ll be unable to continue your lessons with Severus, Remus has volunteered to help you instead.”

Harry turned to look at Remus who gave him a warm smile. Harry returned the smile. This was a welcomed change. Without Snape in charge, he could see himself learning something this time.

“I can help too,” Sirius said drawing everyone’s attention. He was looking even more sickly now, and his voice was strained, but that didn’t somehow stop him from sounding triumphant. “I know a good deal about keeping secrets,” he added.

“Sirius- “ Remus started with worry in his voice, and then shook his head. “You can hardly stand on your own two feet.”

“That is a generous offer,” Dumbledore interrupted before Sirius could protest. He smiled like what Sirius had just done was endearing. “However, there is something else that I would need your help with. I know that you’re not feeling too good, but- “

“I am FINE,” Sirius said and pushed himself more upright. His fingers were white where he gripped the table. “What is it you need done?”

“There’s someone I need to find a refuge for, just for a few days,” Dumbledore said. “And since it’s unlikely that you are going anywhere for a few days, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind a guest. It is the matter of the young Mr. Malfoy.“

The meeting broke into a cacophony of voices.

“No,” Harry gasped. He had started looking forward to calling Grimmauld Place his home and he simply _hated_ the idea of inviting Malfoy there.

“Can’t the git go crawling to his Death Eater friends?” Ron muttered under his breath.

“Ron,” Hermione and Mrs. Weasley called in unison and Ron flashed red and looked embarrassed for having been heard.

Sirius glanced at Harry and then turned to look across the table. “Tonks and him are closer family. Can’t he stay with her?”

She looked equally uncertain. “He doesn’t like me very much. Besides, I am needed elsewhere.”

“Remus?”

“The full moon is tomorrow. There is not much I can do about it.”

“Calm down,” Dumbledore said. “I want you all to remember that we are talking about a boy here that is barely sixteen. He has now lost both his family home and parents.” Harry looked down at the table, feeling burned from having been scolded. He’d asked to be included in the meeting. He was determined to be adult enough to deserve a place at the table and swallowed any further protest he might've had. When he looked up, he noticed Sirius looking sheepish as well.

Dumbledore allowed the silence to settle before continuing. “Knowing who the boy has to relatives, I thought it essential that I see to it that he is watched over by someone I trust. We do not want him to get lost on the path that leads him to become a Death Eater because he doesn’t have a choice.”

“Who’s to say he isn’t one already?” said Mad-Eye quietly. There was a silent murmur after the words, but the earlier bursts of protest were gone.

“I get that,” Sirius said. “I would never want him to end up in the care of Bellatrix. But why take him here? I’ve been careful not to show my face anywhere. Unless you expect me to be Padfoot while he’s here, he’ll find out that not only I’m still around but that you know where I am. I doubt I have even the energy to transform right now.”

“You talked about just a few days,” Mrs. Weasley said. Ron looked horrified. The twins shared the horror-struck expression.

“Mum. I don’t think Malfoy-”George started.

“Not to the Burrow, Mum!” exclaimed Fred.

“No, no, I don’t think the boy would like that very much,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Dumbledore obviously has some plan in place already. Where will the boy go after a few days?”

“He said that he’d be in contact with his friends and see if he could stay with one of them. He will only need a place to stay until he gets an answer. That answer is likely to give us some insight into how the old families think about this situation, and who might sympathise whom. If he finds himself friends, we can just watch him from afar,” Dumbledore said. He turned his attention to Sirius then. “I wouldn’t put this on you, Sirius, if I saw an alternative. I want everyone out there looking for ways of fighting Voldemort. You won’t be out there for a few days, and I can tell the boy that you offered because he is family. Now, this forces us to let him know about you, if he hasn’t already heard from someone present at the Department of Mysteries, but that is a risk I’m willing to take.”

“You don’t trust him,” Moody said. “Why are you so eager to let him here?”

“I might trust too easily,” Dumbledore said and smiled gently. “However, as long as he is my student I will protect him. Grimmauld Place will do just that, just as Grimmauld Place has protected us. This place is safe from prying eyes. That is what we need until we know what happened. He cannot betray the location of this place while it’s protected by us. It is the safest solution for us all.”

There was silence once more. Dumbledore’s solution made sense even if it made Harry uncomfortable. Grimmauld Place was safe – that was why he could stay here – and if Malfoy needed protection, these walls could offer it to him. It did not meant that he was welcoming him here with open arms. Grimmauld place was _his_.

“Alright,” Sirius agreed. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Sirius. I knew I could count on you. Now, to the other matters we need to talk about.”

And that was how it was decided that Draco Malfoy would come to stay at the Grimmauld Place. At the end of the meeting it was also agreed that the Order would gather elsewhere until Grimmauld Place was once again free of prying ears and eyes. After the meeting was over, people apparated and flooed away to carry out the duties given them. Harry had nothing to do except wait. The only thing he had been given to do was to learn to control his mind and that had to wait until Remus was back to teach him.

Before leaving himself, Ron came to Harry and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, accompanied with a sympathetic smile. “It sucks, mate. Come to the Burrow if you can’t stand the git. Or lock him in one of the creepy rooms.”

Harry just shook his head. He tried not to think about what it would mean to have Malfoy as a guest in his home. It had already been agreed to and there was no backing out of it. Not that he wanted to do so – this was what Dumbledore needed and Harry did not want to disappoint anyone by allowing something childish like not liking the boy one bit get in the way. So okay, not thinking about it was not going all that great.

It was with a mix of relief and dread that Harry realised that everyone but Dumbledore and Remus had left.

“I’ll be back to be your teacher immediately when I feel better,” Remus said to Harry. “Take care until then. And try to keep Sirius from killing himself by overexertion.”

“I’ll do my best”, Harry said and they shared a smile. It would be easier said than done.

Then Remus too was gone, and only Dumbledore remained. He and Sirius were talking in low voices and looking serious. When they realised Harry was staring, they fell quiet.

“I will go get the young Mr. Malfoy then,” Dumbledore said. Neither Harry nor Sirius said anything. Dumbledore walked to the front door and it looked effortless as he disappeared into thin air with a silent pop. Harry had the time to turn to look at Sirius and wonder what they’d agreed to before there was a sound again and Dumbledore was back with Malfoy in tow.

Harry had expected the Malfoy that he knew from school. However, the boy walking through the front door of the Grimmauld Place was like a poor copy somebody had made of that Malfoy. His hair was absent-mindedly combed back, far from the carefully styled and controlled way Harry was used to. There was no sneer on Malfoy's lips, and he looked cautious, not confident. At least, not before he saw Harry. Suddenly, Harry knew that this was indeed Malfoy, the bully who hardly deserved the kindness of being looked after by Dumbledore.

“I see how it is,” Malfoy spat. “Don’t you _dare_ to feel pity for me. We are not the same.” The anger made his whole demeanour vibrant and alive.

Harry just blinked. He hadn’t... He wasn’t pitying Malfoy. If he could’ve chosen, he’d never invited him here in the first place.

Sirius cleared his throat. The sound made Malfoy flinch and look at his direction. “Welcome to the Black Residence. Don’t touch anything you haven’t had the permission to touch. The place has something of a mind of its own and there are still hexes and traps waiting for the unprepared guest.”

“Should make you feel like home,” Harry muttered. He only belatedly realised how inappropriate the words were right now.

Malfoy looked at Harry again and he had murder in his eyes. His right hand closed into a fist. It looked like he was ready to throw a punch – before Harry realised that Malfoy’s wand was right there in his pocket, very close to the hand that was white at the knuckles now. Malfoy was trying _not_ to take his wand out. It became so obvious that Harry stared wide-eyed. Malfoy could’ve hexed him, Malfoy _had_ hexed him for insults before. Why hadn’t he tried now?

“Harry,” Sirius said, his voice already growing weary. “Find Malfoy a room. We can talk about getting you to the Burrow after that. Molly will gladly welcome you there if you ask.”

“No,” Harry said and shook his head. “This is my home. I’m not leaving,” he added and hoped that Sirius understood. He was above this fighting. This wasn’t a problem. And he was definitely not going to leave Sirius alone when he could hardly stand. He looked from Sirius to Dumbledore and back. Dumbledore gave him a little smile, and Sirius looked sympathetic. ‘If you say so’ his look said.

Malfoy hadn’t moved from the spot, and was looking just past Harry now. Harry felt unsure how to approach this situation. It had flared up so naturally at first, but now that he’d gotten scolded – with very few words, but scolded nevertheless – he wanted to show that he was capable of being civil even with Malfoy. “Come,” he finally muttered and turned to lead them up the stairs. Malfoy didn’t say a word, but followed.

Harry spared one fast glace back to see Sirius and Dumbledore watching them disappear up the stairs. There was obviously something that they wanted to discuss, something that even Harry wasn’t privy to. There was so much of that nowadays. It had to do with the dreams and the connection with Voldemort and ever since he’d fallen into the trap that Voldemort had set up, he’d been treated differently. It made Harry angry. He was not going to betray them! He was getting better at keeping the dreams away, and this far Voldemort hadn’t tried to spy during the daytime. At least, Harry didn’t think so.

“I’m not going to murder you in your sleep. There’s no need to glare at me like that”, Malfoy said surprisingly quietly.

“I wasn’t-“ Harry started and then dropped his reply. No point trying to reason with Malfoy. So, he’d displayed some of the anger he felt about being excluded in his expression. None of Malfoy’s business. “Appreciated, I guess,” he said grudgingly before quickly moving on. “The leftmost room is mine, and Sirius has the one furthest to the right, one floor up.“ He opened the room to the bedroom next to his own – it was mostly covered in cold green shades and cobwebs. There was an empty bedroom on the other side of the landing as well, but it was the room they’d stashed away most of the judging portraits, which Harry warned about. “You can practise your scowl with them if you want to, though,” he added.

Malfoy looked at him. “Was that supposed to be funny?” he asked.

Harry blinked.

“I’m not interested in listening you snore. I take the one with the portraits”, Malfoy said. “They might even like me. I have unpolluted blood in me, after all.” He headed towards the room with portraits without giving Harry the time to react, stepped into the room and then closed the door with a slam and then locked it.

 _Great_ , Harry thought and walked to his room. He went almost as far as locking _his_ door, but stopped right before turning the key. So, he was forced to share Grimmauld place with Malfoy. If he wanted to spend his time locked in a room with hateful ancestors, so be it. It was not Harry’s problem.

xxx

Harry ate breakfast alone the next morning. That Sirius slept late was a good thing, but that didn’t make sitting in the big kitchen all alone any more comfortable. Harry had very rarely eaten alone like this, in a room which he'd used to sharing with others. Hermione and Ron, and occasionally Remus, had kept him company the few days that he’d spent here since the school year had been over, and any other summer he’d either been surrounded by the Weasleys or the Dursleys. Dursleys weren’t people that he’d be missing, but they’d been good at making noise. It was just too quiet now. Harry understood that Ron wanted to spend time at home. Hermione hadn’t seen her parents since Christmas so of course she too would head home. That did not stop Harry from hoping that he’d have someone to share the breakfast with.

Harry readied a tray for Sirius after he’d finished his breakfast and took it up. He left it on a dresser inside Sirius’ room when Sirius failed to wake up. A sleeping Sirius was a good thing, Remus had said. A sleeping Sirius couldn’t go around doing stuff that could potentially kill him. Harry smiled and closed the door after himself.

He walked down, found himself a book on Quiddish history that Sirius had found laying in his room, outdated but entertaining nevertheless, and got ready to wait the unavoidable conflict that was Malfoy at the Grimmauld place. However, Malfoy seemed to be intent on not showing up. When it was long past noon, Harry could no longer concentrate on the book. Malfoy wasn’t even here and he still managed to make Harry uneasy. Why wasn’t Malfoy getting down to find some breakfast? Malfoy couldn’t be such a drama queen that he intended to starve away in his room until he got a way out of here, could he?

Harry walked up the stairs and stopped at Malfoy’s door. The conflict would happen sometime – it could as well be now. He knocked on the door. “Malfoy?” he called when there was no immediate response. When there was still no reaction, Harry tried the doorknob in hopes that it would be unlocked. No such luck, but the rattling did get him Malfoy’s attention.

“What do you want?” Malfoy asked through the door. He sounded grumpy.

“Don’t you want breakfast? Or lunch, really.” Harry asked.

There was no answer.

“Malfoy? I wasn’t planning on poisoning you,” Harry said. He found himself saying the words almost like a joke, which did weird him out a bit when he thought about it. He and Malfoy weren’t friends – they’d never really spoken to each other unless one counted throwing insults back and forth as a type of dialogue.

“I’m not really hungry so you can just leave me alone,” Malfoy said. Even if he'd tried to sound confident, he sounded everything but. In fact, he sounded vulnerable - like anyone stuck in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people they didn't like, Harry realised. It was with that thought that a Harry suddenly felt hollow. How could it be so easy to forget what Malfoy had just gone through? He had come here expecting to find the Malfoy that always resorted to ‘wait till my father hears about this!’ when he knew Malfoy no longer couldn’t say that. Malfoy had no parents and no family to go home to. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. Dumbledore had already twice reminded them about it, and yet, it had been so easy for him to forget. “I’m sorry,” Harry muttered.

“I told you not to feel sorry for me!” Malfoy hissed immediately.

“A sorry excuse of a Black!” came a screeching voice. Several others joined it. “The boy is weak.” “Listen him cry.” “Traitors, and disappointments… “

“ _Stupefy!_ Just SHUT up,” Malfoy cursed, the words followed by a loud thump. The door then started to rattle and Harry stumbled back to get out of the way. Malfoy opened the door and looked at Harry like it had been Harry who’d personally insulted him. Harry just stared back, dumbstruck. Malfoy had barely slept. He looked so very tired that Harry didn’t know what to do.

“So, they didn’t like me,” Malfoy said like it explained everything. He rubbed his eyes, which was when Harry realised that they were very red.

“Were you crying?” Harry asked.

Malfoy didn’t even blink before he had his wand out and had casted a curse. Harry was completely unprepared and could only lift his hand in a vain attempt to shield himself from it. He felt a cold wind push through, and realised that he couldn’t get any words out. A tongue-tying curse. Malfoy pushed past him into the room on the other side of the hallway, the one that Harry had originally offered to Malfoy. At the door, Malfoy briefly turned to look back.

“Don’t pity me,” he said and slammed the door close.

The curse unravelled fast enough and after gasping for a breath a few times and coughing, Harry had the words back. He was pissed now and did not stop to think. He turned to the door Malfoy had gone through and unlocked it with a swift movement of his wand. The lock turned with a satisfyingly loud sound. Harry was not going to stand down now that Malfoy had attacked him. It had been a harmless curse, but the next one might not be. 

Malfoy was standing on the other side of the room, in front of a window that was covered with heavy curtains. Some light was still shining through and the backlighting made it hard for Harry to really see Malfoys’ face. Harry _could_ see that Malfoy was still holding his wand in his hand although it had now fallen to his side.

“Get it over with then,” Malfoy snarled, but the words lacked strength. He was leaning back but there was nowhere he could go now.

“Over with what?” Harry asked. He took a step forward but stopped when he saw Malfoy raising his wand just slightly. He was like a cornered animal, waiting to see what Harry would do now. “I wasn’t going to hex you!” he said, having quickly changed his mind about it.

“Oh, of course you wouldn’t!” Malfoy snapped. “You are going to use this to smugly look down on me.”

“No, I’m not! Malfoy, stop it!” Harry placed his wand into his pocket. He displayed his empty hands. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t,” Malfoy said and raised his wand. He was looking like a deer in the headlights now. “I don’t need you telling how you _get it_. You never knew your parents. You have no idea what losing them feels like!” Malfoy moved his hand as if to cast a spell and Harry hurried to get his wand out, how stupid he had been to trust Malfoy-

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Sirius cried.

Malfoy’s wand flew violently from his hand and hit a wall. Harry turned around to see Sirius standing in the hallway. Harry almost expected more shouting, but Malfoy and Sirius only stared at each other. Malfoy was trying to face the stare without faltering, but he looked scared and shaken. Sirius was angry, but he was keeping it in check, if just barely.

“I think it’s better if Dumbledore takes you back to Hogwarts”, Sirius said. Malfoy didn’t answer. Harry didn’t feel like it was his place to say anything. When Sirius turned to leave, Harry followed him after giving one last glance at Malfoy. The boy stood very still, making neither a move to stop them from going nor moving to fetch his wand.

Sirius walked the stairs down slowly. He probably shouldn’t have rushed to the rescue and Harry winced every time Sirius let a pained grunt on his way down. They made it in silence all the way to the kitchen where Harry helped Sirius to some tea. Harry found himself unable to break the silence even then. Sirius was busying himself with trying to make the tea cool faster while Harry tried to figure out what he wanted to say. At first he’d been angry, but he’d quickly become confused about who the anger was directed at. Malfoy was acting weird, but that didn’t mean that Harry had needed saving or that he’d been in danger because of Malfoy. They didn’t need to send Malfoy away because this. It was Harry who hadn’t known how to deal with the boy. Besides, they’d just agreed to provide him a safe place to stay at. They couldn’t withdraw their offer like this. it felt too much like Harry letting the Order down.

At the same time, sending away Malfoy was what he’d wanted to do from the beginning. Nothing that could’ve changed his mind had happened. Malfoy had been snippy and moody, and then locked himself away. It was just as bad as Harry had expected – barely a day had gone by and the Grimmauld Place felt confining and unwelcoming.

One of the stairs creaked and both Sirius and Harry turned to look. Malfoy stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, looking uncertain about what he was doing. He was still looking extremely tired, but Harry was certain that he’d tidied himself up a bit. Behind the uncertainty there was an unmistakable pride, which was impressive taking in the circumstances. Malfoy walked to the table with steady steps and placed his wand on it with a pointedly controlled movement.

“I’d prefer to stay here,” Malfoy said. “You can have my wand as reassurance that it won’t happen again.” He waited for their reaction with his head tall and posture ramrod straight.

Harry wanted to have something to say, but his tongue was still tied as if he’d been cursed again. He had not expected this. It wasn’t only Harry that didn’t know how to react to this. Sirius, however, had still his voice. “Why? Why would you want to stay here?”

“Because I can’t stay at Hogwarts. Not all alone. The place is awful without any other students,” Malfoy said matter-of-factly. There was hardly an emotion to his tone, just a small, forced smile at the end of it. “I’ll stay out of the way here.”

“Fine,” Harry said. The word sounded way too loud and crude, but he had to say something. He could buy Malfoy being afraid of being alone. That made sense. He might’ve even been afraid that somebody was out to get him. It was understandable. Harry felt determined to rise above this. “There’s tea,” he added. Malfoy nodded at the words and Harry felt immediately better. They could do this. The wand was left on the table, with nobody feeling like reaching for it.

Sirius watched silently as Malfoy walked to the teapot to pour himself a cup of tea. Malfoy then sat down as far away from Sirius and Harry as he could, drinking his tea in solitude. Still, this was progress. There was something like a fragile peace.

“I can’t wait for Moony to get back”, Sirius said quietly and gave Harry a little grin. Harry couldn’t have agreed more. Neither of them had mastered the art of diplomacy.

Harry left a tray with food at Malfoy’s door after Sirius and he’d eaten, but tried to forget the boy otherwise. Sirius was grumpy, but did his best to keep Harry company and it was mostly a nice day. They didn’t do much, but Harry was content nevertheless. Sharing cups of tea in the sitting room was cosy and closest to an own home that Harry had ever gotten before. He was happy for the rest of the day, and felt uneasy only when he passed Malfoy’s door again when escorting Sirius to his room. The plate _had_ been emptied, which meant that Malfoy had been forced to eat alone. If Malfoy’s reason to stay here was truly that he feared being left all by himself in Hogwarts, they were doing an abysmal job at offering him a better alternative. Harry decided that he would try to get Malfoy eat with them tomorrow, even if meant he would be spending more time with the boy.


	2. Friends

The following night, Harry slept uneasily and woke up earlier than he'd liked. It was still too early for the birds to be up and a shroud of mist covered the ground. Harry sat a while by the window trying to summon the sleep back, but he wasn’t successful. He didn’t remember what he’d dreamt about which he counted as a blessing. If he didn’t remember, it couldn’t have been Voldemort trying to feed him wrong information again, could it?

Harry left his room to fetch himself something to drink, tiptoeing his way through the hallway and down the stairs to not wake anyone up. He shouldn’t have bothered as there was no way Sirius would’ve woken up and Malfoy was already up, waiting him in the kitchen.

They both froze. Malfoy was standing with his wand in hand, at the kitchen counter. He looked scared for a moment and then snarled. “It’s not like I could be expected to make myself breakfast the muggle way,” he said.

Harry found himself smiling. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s not like we took the wand away from you. You offered it hostage, but that doesn’t mean you can’t use it. Have you even made breakfast without magic, even once in your life?”

Malfoy was tense, but continued with what Harry had interrupted. It looked easy as Malfoy waved himself a cup of tea and a plate filled with a heavy breakfast consisting of sausages and eggs, even a few slices of toast. He must've been up a while despite the early hour to have had the time to prepared himself such a feast. The food now dutifully following him on a plate, Malfoy then walked past Harry and sat by the table without a word.

“You do get hungry after all,” Harry said. “Is there any left for me?”

“No.” Malfoy didn’t even look up.

“Really?”

“We are not friends,” Malfoy said. “I hardly think we are at the stage yet where we make each other breakfast.” He sounded pleased by the fact that Harry had misjudged him. “I can’t wait to back to _my friends_. They have the decency to have house-elves taking care of trivial things like this.”

“Why didn’t you just go directly to your friends?” Harry challenged. 

“It doesn’t work like that,” Malfoy replied immediately.

“Why? I don’t get it,” Harry said.

Malfoy looked away then, trying to be nonchalant about it, but Harry could see how Malfoy’s lips drew tight, and his hand on the table grew unnaturally still. “It’s polite to wait for an invitation,” Malfoy said.

 _And why haven’t you gotten one yet?_ Harry felt the words get caught in his throat. Malfoy wouldn’t know the answer, would he? That was why he was here. Dumbledore had wanted to give Malfoy a place where he could be safe while the Order tried to find out what had happened. There was no way Harry could ask about it – So, are your friends Death Eaters that don’t want anything to do with you now? – and he felt extremely foolish for having taken this even up. Hermione would’ve been so much better at this. She was better at thinking things through. Harry, he just kept barging right through everything that needed careful treading.

Harry sat down. Malfoy turned to look at him when he did so, on high alert immediately. Malfoy didn’t trust him at all. Harry looked for the wand, but couldn’t see it. Maybe Malfoy was allowed the mistrust – Harry didn’t really trust him either. “Does your owl know you are here? Or how are you going to get the reply?” Harry asked to break the silence.

“Owls always find where they need to,” Malfoy said and gave Harry a look that made it painfully clear that he though Harry was an idiot for asking.

“Right,” Harry replied. “I hope you get your invitation soon then. But while you are here, you can eat your meals with us. Okay?” Even though he knew that every meal would be awkward if Malfoy did decide to join them, he wasn’t backing down. “You are a guest.”

Malfoy didn’t bother replying. Harry waited a moment before getting up and making himself and Sirius some breakfast. He worked without any magic, enjoying the routine that had been his for so long. He could feel Malfoy watching him work, but didn’t allow that to bother him now.

xxx

Remus arrived in the late afternoon. He looked worse for wear than at the meeting, but gave both Harry and Sirius a warm hug. “Everything fine?” he asked as he sat down in one of the armchairs by the window in the sitting room. He looked very tired, but seemed to be ready to give a lecture today.

“Everyone is still alive,” Sirius grunted and spared Harry from trying to explain how the last day had gone.

“That’s good,” Remus said, but didn’t have too much feeling behind the words. “No dreams either?”

Harry shook his head instantly. He’d had bad dreams as long as he could remember. The uneasiness this morning had most likely been nothing. “Are we going to practise occulemancy today?”

Remus nodded and smiled then. “It’s best to be prepared for when he-who-must-not-be-named makes his move, don’t you think?”

The sitting room was as good place as any, and Sirius just waved lazily as Remus asked if Sirius minded if they worked here. This occulemancy practise was as far from the practises that Harry had had with Snape as it could’ve been; It always took a moment before Remus got through Harry's attempts of shielding his thoughts but Harry felt like his privacy was still being respected. Every time that Harry’s thoughts wandered Remus just made a short comment that he’d gotten through, and they’d start over without dwelling on what Harry might’ve revealed. Again and again Harry tried to empty his mind and wait for Remus’ attempt at legilimency. There were a few times when Harry was sure that he’d managed to recognize Remus’ soft touch and bar it from entering only to hear Remus tell him that he’d gotten through.

“It’s different with you,” Harry muttered. “Snape just… forced his way through. I could always feel him going through my mind.”

“I try not to see too much,” Remus said. He was massaging his forehead now, nursing a headache. “I’m also likely not as skilled at this as he is. I’m better at occulemency, and I hoped that the skill would translate over. If nothing else, I hope that we could teach you to block someone who is not skilled at legilimency first, and we could move to closing your whole mind after that. Snape obviously wanted to see high level results faster.”

Harry felt frustrated, but tried not to let it show. “I thought I would be making progress by now,” he admitted. “You are better teacher than Snape.”

“You will get a hang of it soon enough,” Remus promised. “You did manage to empty a part of your mind already. You just need to work on not getting too focused on the thoughts on the surface. It’s still easy to bypass the blocks that you place because you are so aware where they are.”

Harry tried to smile, but he didn’t really feel up to it. He knew he was being ungrateful. Remus was tired, but he was still spending his time here, teaching him, even though he should’ve been resting. Sirius too was keeping himself up to keep him company. Everybody did their best so that Harry could learn to protect himself. But he wasn’t learning, was he? He was putting everybody in danger because he couldn’t get this!

“Don’t get discouraged,” Remus said. “I needed years of practise before I could trust myself. You are a smart boy, you’ll figure it out.” Remus then fell silent and turned to look towards the doorway. Harry could guess what he’d seen without even turning to look. They were still for a moment before Remus looked back at Harry, which was when Harry glanced quickly over his shoulder. Malfoy was already gone. “I don’t think I have it in me for more today,” Remus said. “I would like to investigate how Sirius is healing before I go. Can you help me carry him up while he is still docile?”

Harry helped gladly and they managed to get Sirius follow them up. Sirius lay still on his bed as Remus carried his wand along Sirius limbs, muttering words under his breath. Harry stood by the door and watched. Remus looked grim when he turned to leave, but placed a warm hand on Harry’s shoulder as he passed. “It’s not getting worse, at least. If we only could take him to St. Mungos, I would rest easier, but we will have to do what we got. Make sure that he rests. I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said and they shared a worried look at Sirius who’d fallen asleep.

xxx

Harry hardly slept the following night. He had too much to think about to be able to relax. He tried emptying his mind, practising for tomorrow's occulemancy practise, but his thoughts wandered. Everything in his life felt out of place. Sirius was tired and not healing as fast as everyone had been hoping. Malfoy was staying at the Grimmauld Place, but he was barely more than a ghost, appearing from his room only to quickly eat something once in a while. Having Malfoy this close by should’ve mattered more, but now it was just a thing in a long list of strange things.

Harry rolled onto his side and stared at the wall. The only thing he could really do something about was the danger of Voldemort getting to him, everything else in his life was something he couldn’t control. Still, he knew he would fail again tomorrow. Remus had tried to be kind, but Harry had made no progress. He hadn’t even learned how to recognize where Remus was getting through. It was hardly worth wasting everyone’s time on teaching him this stuff, when he clearly didn’t have the talent for it... And yet, if he didn’t learn, he couldn’t help the Order. He could hardly take part in meetings and learn secrets if he would only give them away the first time Voldemort tried. He was only a burden as long as he had his mind open like this. Harry felt powerless and angry. He wanted to do so much more to help!

Restless sleep caught Harry sometime in the early morning, but he didn’t feel any more rested when he did wake up. In fact, he felt more tired today than he’d felt yesterday. There were preciously few things to look forward to and an abundance of things destined to annoy him. The sight of Malfoy waiting for him in the kitchen made Harry groan silently. They’d not changed a word since the morning yesterday, and Harry didn’t feel particularly keen on talking now either. He just gave Malfoy a look, acknowledging that he was indeed there, and got to making himself some breakfast. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy hadn’t bothered in preparing breakfast for anyone else besides himself, and had the audacity to seem extremely pleased with himself about that.

Harry sat down at the table as far away from Malfoy as he possibly could and started eating. After a few bites he stopped. “When are you going to leave?” he asked. It was irrational, really, but wouldn’t everything be better if Malfoy wasn’t here? At least then this place would feel like home.

“I haven’t gotten an owl yet,” Malfoy replied.

“It’s been two days already,” Harry said. He felt his words get more strength to them. “How long are your friends going to let you wait?”

“None of your business,” Malfoy retorted.

“It is as long as you are using my home as a refuge.”

“Since when has this been your place?” Malfoy spat. “This is ancestral Black residence. You aren’t a Black. I doubt Sirius Black, the wanted murderer, is officially even allowed to keep control of this place. If I went digging, I might even be able to convince people of transferring it to my name.”

“Shut up about things you know nothing about,” Harry said. “This is my home because Sirius invited me in. Sirius gets to decide who can call this place home. And trust me, _you_ would not have been invited if it weren’t-“ Harry stopped before he got too far. Dumbledore had not wanted them to talk about the involvement of the Order. To his relief, Malfoy had drawn his own conclusions.

“What do you care about the reasons I’m here? You don’t give a damn what happens to me of my family. You and the Weasleys and all the mudbloods are certainly happy to see us gone!”

“What if we are?” Harry replied without thinking about it, then blinked. “I mean. No, I didn’t-“

Malfoy had gone a shade whiter, and had pushed himself further from the table, looking ready to bolt. But as Harry froze, Malfoy gathered himself again. “I still don’t need you pity,” Malfoy snared. “Even if they keep telling you that you are the ‘saviour’ you shouldn’t allow it to get to your head. I don’t need your saving.”

“It’s called compassion,” Harry said. “And for someone who doesn’t want others to care you sure do your best to bring your sob story up all the time.”

Malfoy _smiled._ It was a smile that was painfully familiar to Harry – this sneer, this smile, it was a sign that Malfoy was about to do something nasty that he thought he would get away with. “That is rich coming from you, the-boy-who-lived,” Malfoy said. The words seemed to come easy to him now. “All you’ve ever done is to live on the myth of the boy hero. There's a story about you in the Prophet every day. Have you ever done something on your own? Have you ever really deserved the things that have been handed to you? You don’t, do you?”

Harry knew that the words were meant to get to him, but shrugging them off was difficult. It was almost like Malfoy could see that he had not slept because he couldn’t shake of the feeling that he was becoming a burden. “That’s different,” Harry said. “I never wanted any of the things that people gave me. I don't want the Prophet writing about me! I’m not like you. At least I never went running to my father demanding him to bend the rules for me!”

The words had been meant to hurt, but Malfoy just kept smiling. “Oh, you think yourself so much better than the rest of us but you aren’t, are you?” Malfoy said. “The saviour! Am I one of your projects now? Is that why you keep treating me like one of your pathetic friends?”

“What? No!” Harry said, but he didn’t know how to prove otherwise. “You are not my friend. You’ll never be. And my friends, they are-“

“Mudbloods. Traitors. Really, you should’ve tried to get some better friends. You could have gotten friends in high places, you know. But maybe it’s easier to be special and stand out when you are surrounded by trash?”

“Just stop it,” Harry said, his voice bordering on yelling. “I know you are trying to annoy me.”

“Then get annoyed!” Malfoy answered. “I don’t need you walking on eggshells around me.  I don’t want you to be compassionate! I don’t want to be here, and I definitely don’t want to be here if I’m going to be treated like a child.”

“Then leave,” Harry said.

“I can’t, can I?” Malfoy replied and gave Harry an ice cold stare. He didn’t back down, and it was Harry who had to turn away. The worst of it was that Harry knew that Malfoy wasn’t lying. Harry had said what he’d said to be mean, to push back, but it was all wrong. They were not standing on even ground. Malfoy could not back off. He had nowhere to go. That clearly made Malfoy willing to keep trading insults until this all escalated out of control again. Yet, Harry did not how to stop it from happening. Every attempt to be friendly had only made Malfoy more eager to fight him.

Harry sighed. “I just wanted to be nice. I don’t know why I bothered. I get it now. You feel insulted by it. But I don’t care how not like a Malfoy it is to be helped by others, you need to shut up and stop annoying me if you want to stay here. I will kick you out whatever the other say about it.”

“Would you really?” Malfoy taunted. He didn’t look like he feared that Harry might actually do what he was threatening with. “Is Black’s presence holding you back? Wouldn’t want to look cruel and petty? Will it become easier once Black dies?”

“What? He’s not going to die,” Harry said and real distress crept to his voice. Sirius hadn’t gotten better as fast as they hoped, but that didn’t mean… And Malfoy laughed. This was pointless. Harry stood up. “I’m gonna go,” he said even though there was no reason to say it aloud. He walked straight to the fireplace. Without stopping to think he took some floo-powder and called ‘The Burrow’ and entered the green flash.

He stumbled out into the living room of the Burrow and he only then realised how early it was. The place was silent and dark – the curtains were still drawn in front of the windows. As Harry looked around, Mrs Weasley appeared from the kitchen. She was drying her hands with her apron and it was obvious that she’d gotten startled by the sudden visitor. She didn’t hesitate longer than a heartbeat before she smiled brightly.

“Harry! You are early,” Mrs Weasley said and came to give Harry a warm hug. She left flour on Harry’s shirt after her and busied herself for a moment with getting the worst of it off.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t realise how early it was.“

“Nonsense, Harry dear. You are always welcome,” she said barely allowing Harry to finish. “Come with me to the kitchen and we’ll fix you something to eat. When someone is up this early, they must be in a need of a proper breakfast.”

Harry was about to say that there was no need, but the firm smile that Mrs Weasley gave him was enough to quiet him down. He hadn’t eaten that much. He couldn’t remember eating all that much for days. It felt… good to be here, Harry realised and smiled back.

“Ron won’t be up for a few hours,” Mrs Weasley said as she walked around in the kitchen waving with her hand to gather everything that she felt Harry needed now. She gave a glance at the clock on the wall that showed where all the members of the Weasley family currently where. The pointers all pointed at bed. “Ginny will probably show up soon enough,” she added just as Ginny’s pointer moved just a bit forward.

“It’s alright,” Harry mumbled to the table. He knew that Mrs Weasley was genuinely not annoyed at him showing up this early, but he still felt foolish. What had he thought when running away to hide here? He should’ve just returned to his room and owled Ron to tell he was coming over later in the day.

Mrs Weasley gave one firm flick with her wand and all the food that she’d been moving around formed themselves in an orderly formation on the table: there was porridge, bacon and eggs, jug of juice, tea and several bowls with lock on them so that Harry had no idea what they had in them. It was way too much food for one person, but Harry knew better than to question it. Mrs Weasley looked around in the kitchen and seemed satisfied. She then sat down on the opposite side of the table and poured herself a cup of tea. “No matter what has happened, a proper breakfast is the best way to start a day right,” she said as she took a careful sip of the still steaming tea.

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said and reached to fill his plate. “I’m alright. Really,” he felt the need to add. He must’ve looked more upset than he felt, judging from how much Mrs Weasley was now fussing over him.

“There must be something that weighs your mind to get you out of bed before sunrise,” Mrs Weasley said. She looked at Harry intently, and Harry had to look away. He knew Mrs Weasley only meant well, but because he hardly knew what the problem was himself, he didn’t know how to meet her gaze. “How is Sirius?” Mrs Weasley then added in a kind tone.

“He’s sleeping more,” Harry replied. “Remus says that’s a good sign.”

Mrs Weasley nodded. “It’s only been a few days. Give it time.”

Harry ate in silence for a while and Mrs Weasley returned to baking bread. Harry watched as she rearranged the whole kitchen during the process – flour flew through the air after her as she formed the bread with her hands. By the time that she was done with it, Ginny wandered into the kitchen. Her hair was messy and she looked sleepy, and then very startled when she realised that Harry was sitting at their kitchen. She quickly tried to straighten her hair down.

“Oh. Hi, Harry,” she said and slid to her place on the other side of the table. She found herself a piece of bread and some marmalade. “I didn’t know you’d be coming around today,” she said carefully.

“Uhm. Yeah. It is a somewhat unannounced visit,” Harry muttered and stared at his empty plate.

“It’s completely okay!” Ginny said hastily. “I mean. We could try to play Quidditch now that you are here.”

“That’d be nice,” Harry said. He gave a glance at the clock – Ron was still deep asleep according to it. “I haven’t got my broom with me though.”

“We can loan you an old broom. Which will only be fair, because otherwise you’ll just show off with your brand new one,” Ginny said and grinned.

“We could go flying now. I can show you that I’m not good because of a new broom,” Harry said.

Ginny was up immediately. “You’re on!” she laughed and her eyes shined. “Ron doesn’t believe me when I say that I could make it as chaser in the Gryffindor team. You can help me convince him otherwise.”

Harry allowed Ginny to show the way.  He felt better for having gotten something to eat, and could feel his mood lifting with the anticipation of what was ahead. Flying was easy. It didn’t leave time to dwell on something else. That was what he needed right now.

Xxx

“I’m impressed you could stand him for almost three days”, Ron said. He turned to look at Harry for a short moment before closing his eyes again. They were laying at the edge of the field they’d played Quidditch on during the morning. The grass was soft and the sun shone bright, and Harry was content enough to talk about the nuisance that was Draco Malfoy without getting annoyed.

“That’s three days longer than he should’ve stayed at the Grimmauld place”, Harry said and yawned. “I wish I could just kick him out, but Dumbledore want us to keep an eye on him so I can’t.”

“Has Malfoy said anything that would make it worth watching over him? Does he know anything? He must.”

“Not really,” Harry replied. “He doesn’t talk much unless he’s intent on annoying me.”

“That sound like Malfoy to me,” Ron said and they shared a laugh over that. Harry grew serious after a moment.

“He’s not like he used to be, though,” Harry said. Ron seemed to realise that Harry was struggling with the words now and didn’t interrupt him. “He’s really intent on annoying me, like he really has to try to drive me mad.”

“Could it just be that he’s never had to annoy you constantly like this?” Ron asked jokingly.

“He’s been constantly annoying before,” Harry replied. He leaned back again and allowed himself to forget what had been bothering him. “Feels good to be here. I would’ve come earlier, but I don’t want to leave Sirius alone with Malfoy,” Harry said with a content sigh. “If I can help it,” he had to add.

They were silent again. “Hopefully everything will get better from here,” Ron said.

“We’ve earned it,” Harry replied. He opened his eyes and looked at the skies and the lazy clouds. He really had earned himself a calm summer, but it was hard to forget that Voldemort was still out there and that something was very obviously going on – cue Draco Malfoy driving him out of his home.

xxx

Harry returned early in the afternoon. He almost stumbled into Remus as he stepped out from the fireplace. It was only after Remus had taken a step to the side to get out of the way that Harry saw the grumpy looking Malfoy sitting on the other side of the table. Then he noticed how strained and worried Remus looked.

“See! I _said_ I didn’t do anything to him,” Malfoy protested. He crossed his arms and looked throughout insulted.

“I asked him if he knew where you’d gone,” Remus explained to Harry. He sounded tired by the situation. “He hasn’t been exactly helpful.”

“I didn’t tell him where I was going,” Harry said and then looked at alfoy in confusion. Was he… protecting Malfoy? “Sorry. I was at the Burrow and I didn’t realise how late it had already gotten. I was planning to be back before you got here,” he said to Remus. The best way to deal with Malfoy was to ignore him.

“It’s alright. It’s… alright. Just as long as you are safe,” Remus said. He turned to Malfoy, but before he’d said anything Malfoy was up on his feet.

“I will take my leave now, if that is alright with you,” Malfoy said, but he didn’t wait for an answer. Remus and Harry could only stare as he climbed the stairs with his head held tall and an aura of discontentment following after him.

“I don’t know why I expected something different,” Harry muttered aloud. That broke the spell and Remus turned to him, looking less worried but just as weary as before.

“We should get into your occulumency practise.”

They took their places in the sitting room and started working. At first, Harry felt good and focused. They morning spent flying had given him a new energy. However, as they kept going and Remus kept pushing though his mental walls he started to feel every soar muscle and joint in his body and his focus slipped faster and faster. They had to give up after an hour when both of them were frustrated at the lack of progress.

“It shouldn’t be this difficult,” Harry muttered.

Remus tried to smile reassuringly, but it felt hollow. “It’s not easy, Harry. There’s a reason why it’s not something that’s taught at Hogwarts. Most people never bother learning how to protect their mind.”

“Most people don’t need it like I do,” Harry grumbled. He couldn’t look at Remus and see the pity in his eyes.

“True,” Remus said. The couch creaked as he got up. “You are a smart kid. You will get it sooner or later.”

Harry looked up and failed to return the smile.


	3. An offer is made

The first thing next morning, Harry went to see Sirius and found him sleeping. Harry stood at the door for a long while, watching Sirius breath heavily. He was still very pale. Harry knew he was being impatient, but all this waiting was painful. There was so much in his life that he could do nothing about. He wanted something he could do, a way to make a difference for once.

On the way down, Harry prepared himself for meeting Malfoy. He was not going to repeat the utter failure of yesterday. He felt sure about himself when he saw Malfoy sitting at the table – Malfoy was predictable. Predictable things could be prepared for. They passed each other without exchanging a single word. Harry doubted that they could go ignoring each other for long, but as long as this lasted it was appreciated and welcomed. Harry didn’t bother making a proper breakfast for himself and was satisfied with whatever leftover they had. Mrs Weasley would have disapproved, Harry though as he placed his plate onto the table.

“This place used to have a house elf,” Malfoy said.

Harry looked up.

“I remembered the house elf that lives here visiting us when I was younger,” Malfoy explained.

“Kreacher really doesn’t care for us,” Harry said. “Sirius told him to keep out of sight. He’s done a pretty good job at it since then. Why bring it up?”

“I thought I saw him, that’s all,” Malfoy said. “That’s an awful way to treat house elves, not letting them do anything.”

“You should talk with Hermione about that.” Harry then shrugged and started eating his mix-matched breakfast. It was all cold, but reminded him enough of food to be edible.  As the silence once again stretched and became oppressing, he realised that Malfoy was still paying attention to him. It was subtle, but Harry realised that he could already read Malfoy well enough to notice when he was unnaturally still. “Could it be that you just wanted to talk?” Harry asked as the realisation hit him.

“Talk with you? I’d rather risk insanity and talk with the furniture. They’d at least have something interesting to reply with.”

“That is pretty weak, Malfoy.”

“I can’t be expected to have something creative to insult you with all the time.”

Harry couldn’t fight off an amused huff. No further insults followed and that seemed to have been the whole extent of conversation for this morning. Or so Harry thought before Malfoy, without any warning, said, “I could help you with the occulemency.” When Harry did not immediately replay, Malfoy added, “It’s pretty hard not to know that you are practising occulemency with professor Lupin and that you are miserable at it. The walls are too thin to keep your whining and moaning out.”

“You’ve been spying us.”

“No, I’m just not blind, deaf or dumb,” Malfoy replied. “I could try to help you get it.”

“Why?”

“I’m good at the spells,” Malfoy said like that would've made the answer to Harry's question self-explanatory. Harry wasn't quite as sure about that.

“Why would you want to do something like that? When have you ever wanted to help me? What would you get out of doing something like that?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I thought I’d offer because that would give me something to do.”

“Right,” Harry said. “I find that hard to believe.” It was almost laughable. “I don’t know what you think you would get out of it, but there’s no way I’m letting you near my mind. Ever.”

“I could do that, right now,” Malfoy said utterly serious. His voice was level and he met Harry gaze without hesitation. “You wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

“And if you even try,” Harry said, ”you’re out of here on the street where your death eater friends can pick you up.”

That was it. Malfoy shrugged like nothing had passed and looked down at his breakfast. He gave it just a glance before he walked out of the kitchen. Harry felt triumphant for a moment – this time it hadn’t been he who walked out.

xxx

Remus didn’t show up that day, and weirdest of all, it was Sirius who told Harry that he wouldn’t be coming. When Sirius got down the stairs early in the afternoon and relocated himself onto the couch, the first thing he said was that Remus had some urgent matter keeping him busy. “The bloody owl kept pecking the window until it woke me up,” he grumbled. He then forced a smile on his face. “I’ll be able to cover for him soon enough. I can’t be expected to be sick all of the time.” Harry gave him a worried look, but Sirius adamantly wasn’t backing down. “I can still walk. And I will curse someone if they try to keep me sleeping for one more day.”

Harry smiled. It must be a good sign that Sirius was getting his fighting spirit up again. “Remus chose a good day to be away then. I don’t think he’d like the idea of you on your two feet, ready to curse people.”

“He can think whatever he wants, but he hasn’t a chance at keeping me sidelined for much longer. I can’t let others do the fighting against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named without being a part of it. I _hate_ not knowing what is going on.”

“I’m sure that they’ll find you something to do at the next Order meeting,” Harry said in attempt to sound comforting.

“The next one they let me go to,” Sirius grumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll feel better when the next meeting is,” Harry said. “I hope it’s soon. I can’t wait to get rid of Malfoy.”

Sirius looked behind himself at the stairs. They were empty. When he looked back, he didn’t say anything. Harry waited a while, expecting Sirius to continue but the silence stretched on. Then, when Sirius finally looked at him, it hit Harry. It was so obvious when he thought about it, and Sirius had already all but said so. “Remus isn’t here because they have a meeting today.” One where both of them had been excluded, and Harry hadn’t even been told about it.

“I _was_ against not telling you about it when we spoke about it earlier,” Sirius said, looking uncomfortable but not sorry. “You cannot fault them for being cautious. There is nothing either of us can do right now. Once there is, we’ll be invited.” If the words had been meant to pacify him, they had preciously little effect on Harry.

“They don’t trust me now? Is that it?” Harry asked. “They think I’m going to let Voldemort on our plans.”

“No, Harry, you have to understand. We’ve gone through this before. When he was active last time, trust was a luxury we didn’t have. And once you learned that, it’s really hard to unlearn from it,” Sirius explained. It was obviously something that they’d been discussing with Remus earlier. “ _I_ trust you, Harry. But they wouldn’t let me to the meeting either. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Harry stared at his hands, unsure what he wanted to say. He felt betrayed. Remus must’ve told everyone else that he was still not getting better at Occulemency. It had been just four days, and Remus had apparently already decided that he was so hopeless that he couldn’t be trusted to keep their secrets. “They expect me to fight Voldemort, but they don’t trust me. I’m just supposed to do what Dumbledore decides without ever understanding why. Why is Malfoy here? He should’ve stayed just a few days. Is that too something that Dumbledore didn’t want to tell me? Is there something else going on that I should not know?”

Sirius looked like he sympathized, but he didn’t say anything.

“You know what. Fine. I get it,” Harry snapped. He got up. “If I can’t master something that most wizards never need to master _in four days_ , I should be left out. I thought that Dumbledore had changed his mind when he invited us to join last time, but I can see that I am wrong.”

“Harry,” Sirius said, sounding weary but still trying to plead with him. “You’ll get it. I know you will.”

“Everybody says that,” Harry replied. Sirius winced. “I’m not so sure that any of you actually believe that I will.” Harry didn’t want to be angry at his godfather, but if he stayed here he wouldn’t be able to keep his anger in check. Without further words, he left the room, walking up the stairs without once glancing back. He didn’t need Sirius’ pity. He was pitied by enough people already. What could he do? He tried his hardest, but practising occulemancy wasn’t nothing he could do on his own. The few hours every day with Remus obviously hadn’t been enough - or to be exact, they had been more than enough to show Remus that he was hopeless. Why did they think it had to be him who’d defeat Voldemort when he obviously wasn’t that good at anything they expected from him?

When he reached the top of the stairs, he almost collided with Malfoy, who jumped back fast and leaned to the wall to be out of the way. They stared at each other – Harry feeling cold now. “You can stop with your spying,” Harry snarled. “And I hope that I get to wake up tomorrow with you gone.”

Malfoy didn’t say anything, oddly enough. He just looked as Harry passed him on his way to his room, and Harry was happy to slam the door loudly shut.

A few hours later, Harry had paced around his room so many times by now that he was sure that he could see track marks on the carpet. He was, of course, just imagining it because the worn carpet could hardly protest about anything anymore. The room felt confining, the whole house felt confining - but it was all that Harry had. He couldn’t go running to the Burrow again. It had been childish and extremely foolish in the light of what had followed: He didn’t really make it easy for himself to prove the others that he was an adult and ready to carry the responsibility if he kept running away and hiding from his problems.

However, Harry felt that he had ran into a dead-end. Barred from the meetings, he couldn’t help the Order. Because the Order was using the Burrow as their meeting place now, he couldn’t go there either. He did play with the idea of showing up and catching the meeting in progress – he’d probably enjoy seeing their reactions. Would they turn him away if he’d just show up? Most likely. Harry didn’t want to go through that kind of humiliation.

He sat down on his bed again and lay down on his back so that he could stare at the ceiling once more. Usually when locked in a corner like this, he would've reached out to Ron and Hermione. However, both of them were away with their families now and Harry didn't want to intrude with his issues. Besides, without a doubt they’d both been invited to the meeting, Harry's treacherous mind reminded him. Of course they would be there. Voldemort wasn't spying in on their thoughts.

That didn’t leave Harry many alternatives.

Harry opened the door to the corridor and this time made sure that the door made no sound as it fell shut. He didn’t know if Sirius was still up, but he didn’t feel like confronting him now. Harry walked to Malfoy’s door and waited a moment. This was insane, but still a better alternative than getting side-lined for good. Sure, there were some issues that would need to be sorted out, but he might at least give it a try.

He knocked, and then pushed the door slightly ajar.

Malfoy had actually made the effort to get the curtains away from the windows so that the room looked almost welcoming. Harry could only stare for a while – in proper sunlight,  one couldn’t escape the fact that everything  was the Slytherin shade of green. Malfoy looked right at home.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Malfoy asked. He stood on the other side of the room, a book in his hand and the other reaching towards the night table with a wand on it.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked. He hated how unsure he sounded, but if nothing else he’d gotten the words out immediately.

“What about?” Malfoy asked without relaxing one bit.

“Where you serious about teaching me occulemancy?” Harry asked.

Malfoy looked pleased with himself and actually relaxed noticeably. He lay the book on the table and took the wand, putting it in his robe pocket. He walked away from the shadow of the bed and stopped and crossed his arms once he had a clear line of sight of Harry. Harry took this as an invitation to step into the room. He closed the door behind himself to provide them some privacy. “You obviously realised that that you’d be passing the opportunity of your lifetime,” Malfoy said.

“I take that as a yes,” Harry replied, less amused. Malfoy kept looking too pleased with himself. “I might consider letting you teach me a trick or two,” Harry said. “But we need to sort out a few things out first.”

“You have too many issues to be fixed, Potter,” Malfoy said, taking pleasure in seeing every flaw in Harry. The clothes were probably too crumbled, and the glasses askew, and his posture absolutely horrible. “But I am willing to negotiate.”

“I need to learn occulemancy,” Harry volunteered with. “But I am not letting you read my mind.”

“That causes us a dilemma,” Malfoy said. “Because even though I’m certain that I can make a better job at this than professor Lupin, you are too awful to shield your thoughts completely straight from the beginning. I’d end up seeing something.”

“Which is probably why you volunteered in the first place.”

“Oddly enough, no,” Malfoy said. Harry saw the next words coming, “What comes out of your mouth is already utter garbage. I have no interest in seeing everything that you don’t filter out.”

“Can we stay on the point?” Harry asked. “I don’t know what I thought by coming to talk to you.”

Malfoy shrugged. “What _do_ you want to do?” he then asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. They looked at each other a while, sizing each other up. This wasn’t as weird as it could’ve been, but it was still them – Potter and Malfoy – being almost civil with each other.

“Fine,” Malfoy said. “We can do this the other way around. If you believe that you have so many important secrets to keep that that’ll stop you from learning proper occulemency, I can indulge in your delusions of grandeur.”

Harry crossed his arms. “The obvious insult aside, what do you mean?”

“I’ll teach you legilimence and you get to try and read my mind,” Malfoy said. “Occulumency and legilimincy work as a pair – I’d be shocked if even you wouldn’t learn something about occulumency while practising legilimency,” Malfoy explained surprisingly patiently.

“You’d really allow me to?” Harry asked.

“The risk that you actually succeed is non-existent,” Malfoy replied.

Harry wasn’t all that sure about this, but he didn’t see the obvious drawbacks in this solution that had made the original offer practically impossible. Accepting this offer would still mean spending time with Malfoy, which Harry really didn’t look forward to, and it would mean allowing Malfoy to see how bad Harry actually was at something, which he _really_ didn’t want to do. However, Malfoy did seem to be serious about the offer. “I guess that might work”, Harry agreed. He watched as Malfoy smiled smugly at him. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that Malfoy had somehow fooled him into doing something he shouldn’t.

“So, did you want a lesson right now?” Malfoy asked.

Harry became acutely aware of the fact that he had closed himself in a room with Malfoy, and Malfoy was looking happy. He took a step towards the door. “Not today,” he said, but couldn't come up with a good excuse to leave.

Malfoy shrugged and walked back to his book. He looked back at Harry just once. “Get lost then, Potter," he said as Harry just stood paralysed. Harry thought it was better to actually do what Malfoy said for once.

Harry returned to his room, trying to hatch a plan. So, he had a teacher who’d be around more than Remus. He still had no idea why Malfoy had even offered to help him in the first place. There had to be something behind it – this was Malfoy after all. Harry wanted to talk about this with Hermione and Ron, but once he thought about it, that became the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t need to hear how stupid he was being. If they wouldn’t trust him enough to tell him about the meeting, they’d never hear him out about this.

xxx

Remus was back the next day. He didn’t say anything about where he’d been the day before and Harry had decided not to give in and ask. They sat down and got to work with very few words exchanged. They were both already tried with this, but Harry was more determined now than before. The conclusion he had come to was that if he would make some progress today, he wouldn’t have to work with Malfoy. If he wouldn’t make any progress, on the other hand, he should at least try to learn more about legilimency and occulumency to know if Malfoy was up to something. That Malfoy had offered to allow Harry to try and read his mind was suspicious. It could just be a charade to make Harry focus on something else while Malfoy used legilimency on him.

 _It wasn’t his fault for doing something dangerous like this_ , Harry thought. It was only because he’d been barred from the meetings that he even considered something like this-

This time, Remus didn’t even have to say anything. Harry knew he’d found something once he grew still, and looked uncomfortable. They stared at each other for a while, Harry defiantly not lowering his gaze. Remus was ultimately the one to give in. He sighed and said, “Sirius told you then?”

Harry said nothing.

“I knew he would,” Remus said. He massaged his temple. “Harry, try to understand. We will tell you everything you need to know, but it’s for the safety of everyone that only chosen few know the details of our operations.”

“None of the others are destined to fight Voldemort,” Harry said.

“We are all doing our best so that you wouldn’t have to, either. And if it comes down to that, we are doing everything to give you more time.” When Harry didn’t say anything, Remus continued with, “Do you want to keep practising today? You seem a bit distracted.”

“I don’t think this is working,” Harry said. “Could you try to explain how to recognise when someone is using legilimency on you? If I knew that was happening, I could at least warn everyone.”

Remus nodded. “It’s not an exact science,” he started with. “Legilimency is easiest to notice from the intense concentration it demands from the person casting the spell. This doesn’t help us with the spell used across distance, of course. I would describe it as a sense of something tugging at you. Any sudden revelations or a thought that takes you by surprise could be a sign of someone trying to influence you. Similarly, if someone is trying to glean information, this can cause a sense of sudden recollection. You can never just read someone’s thoughts and memories. There is always the risk of affecting them. Legilimence is as intrusive as it is subtle.”

“And is it so demanding to use legilimency that they couldn’t be able to shield their mind at the same time?” Harry asked.

Remus looked at him sternly then. “You shouldn’t try to use the connection the Dark Lord has with you. You are not strong enough. But you are right. It is unlikely that a person using legilimency can shield their mind as well as when they aren’t. It would take an extremely capable person to divide their attention between the two forms of mind magic.”

The information made Harry feel better about his plan. Malfoy had too many secrets to keep to risk attacking Harry while they practised. Most likely. And if Harry would get the hang of legilimency, he might even find something about Malfoy’s plans – especially if Malfoy was dumb enough to try and take advantage of Harry while they were practising.

xxx

The next morning Harry made his usual round to see Sirius sleeping, and then headed to the kitchen. Malfoy was there, as usual, but this time Harry wasn’t looking to avoid him as best as he could. Even Malfoy looked more curious about Harry’s existence than usually.

“I’d like to practise today,” Harry said.

“What if I don’t feel like teaching you today?” Malfoy replied without missing a beat.

Harry looked at the boy for a moment and was pretty sure that Malfoy was just being annoying. “I don’t think you mean that,” Harry said.

“You really are an arrogant jerk,” Malfoy said, lifting one eyebrow, in what Harry asumed was amusement.

Harry smiled. Then realised what he was doing and got confused. This was not how he and Malfoy usually were, but somehow it was hard to remember how it was supposed to be. Malfoy had stayed at the Grimmauld place a week already; what was normal was clearly shifting. “I can practice during the mornings. I still work with Remus all the afternoons, and I don’t think he needs to hear anything about this.” He got a shrug out of Malfoy. “I still don’t get why you’d want to help me. You’ve not once in my life been helpful to anyone.”

“That’s not true”, Malfoy protested to Harry’s surprise. “I did give you some helpful advice in the train during the first year.”

It took Harry a moment to recall what Malfoy was talking about. The last time they'd even attempted to be friends was on the train journey to Hogwarts, on their first year. “About making better friends? I rather think I’ve succeeded better than you.”

Malfoy acted offended. “I can’t understand why anyone of our teachers like you if this is how you treat them. Nothing but insults and demands all the time.”

“You are hardly qualified to be thinking of yourself as a teacher,” Harry objected. “Besides, I’m not the one here who’s made a living out of being a bastard.”

Malfoy smirked at that. Harry was positively surprised that Malfoy seemed to be capable of self-irony. “So, are we going to teach you something or are you going to hesitate the whole morning?” Malfoy asked.

Although it felt weird, Harry decided on using his room as the place where they’d practise because he really didn’t want to spend more time in Malfoy’s room. He regretted the decision once they entered through the door. Malfoy didn’t lose a second before complaining about the mess. The ultimate moment of humiliation was when Malfoy took his wand and dramatically, making a show of it, spelled the room in order, sorting wayward clothes and books and even instructing the bed to tidy up itself.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Harry muttered.

“That much was obvious from the state of the room you gave me”, Malfoy replied. “You’d think this place was habited by muggles.”

“Muggles have clean houses,” Harry protested, but knew how foolish it had sounded even before Malfoy gave him an incredulous look. He’d allowed his room to fall into disorder simply because he could. At Dursleys, he’d never felt the need to invite additional wrath upon himself by being disorganized and once he'd gotten a room of his own, well, the Dursleys had no longer wanted to look inside it. “Let’s forget about the room. How are you planning to teach me legilimency?”

“How much do you know?” Malfoy asked and crossed his arms.

“I’ve had a lot of practise at people trying it on me,” Harry said. “Comes with me being the-boy-who-lived. You’d be surprised how popular that makes me among Death Eaters and other mind-readers.”

“Point taken,” Malfoy said and didn’t dwell on the subject longer. It was an awkward thing to talk about in the current company. “The word is _legilimens,_ ” Malfoy said. He then picked his wand and pointedly pointed it away from Harry. “The movement itself isn’t central to the spell. What you are doing is focusing your spell into the target’s mind. Usually people find it easiest to imagine person’s thoughts as sitting behind their forehead.”

“Right,” Harry muttered. He reached for his wand that was in his pocket and held fast to it without drawing it out. What was he doing? “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t try to hex me now”, Harry said.

Malfoy just lifted an eyebrow. When Harry didn’t elaborate, he looked lazily around and focused on the armchair that had just moments ago been buried in old clothes. With a flick of his wand Malfoy had moved the chair from its corner right behind himself. He sat down and crossed his legs. “If you are going to take the whole day at this,” he said as an explanation.

Harry looked around too, and noticed a second chair by the writing desk. He didn’t feel like giving Malfoy any ammunition and walked over to it and carried it himself over. He knew how to move things around with magic, but he wasn’t nowhere as elegant with it as Malfoy, annoyingly, had been. Malfoy just looked smug as Harry sat down, back straight and tense.

“Come on,” Malfoy said. “Or are you afraid you can’t do this either?”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment to focus. Then he took his wand and pointed it towards Malfoy, focusing on the boy’s forehead so hard that everything around blurred. He wouldn’t let Malfoy see him fail at this. He was good at magic! He drew a breath, and then breathed, “ _Legilimens_.” The words were just a soft whisper, but Harry could feel the power in them. The impact they had on him left him breathless and gasping. It had been just for a blink of the eye, but he had seen the world became hazier and some kind of presence radiate from Malfoy.

“Impressive, Potter,” Malfoy said. “I thought I’d have to work you more. You can try to channel these kinds of spells with anger and since you have known issues with anger management – see, I’m a natural teacher.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Harry grumbled.

“I have to take pride in small victories,” Malfoy said. “Otherwise teaching you would drive me mad.”

“I think I’ve already gone mad”, Harry said and shook his head. Still, that might’ve been progress. “I want to try again.”

Malfoy leaned back and crossed his arms. “You are welcome to try. This time, keep the focus longer. You could almost think that you’ve never cast a spell in your life.”

Harry rolled his eyes. So, Malfoy was taunting him. Nothing new here. He pushed that aside and focused, gathering all his anxiety of failing behind the spell. It seemed to work. Once he’d said the word – stronger this time – the world turned hazy and he saw Malfoy clearly and blurry at the same time. He tried to get through the fog and he could feel it shifting at his mental touch. He had hardly gotten hang of how he could interact with this world when everything turned slippery and he couldn’t hold onto anything. He blinked and was back to the reality.

“Did you achieve something else besides staring dumbly in the air?” Malfoy asked.

Harry nodded. He had to close his eyes and massage his head. “I understand now why Remus complains about headaches,” he said. “How are you supposed to focus for longer periods?”

“It’s easy,” Malfoy said, casually waving his arm. “Honestly, you do a lot of extra work with all that staring and grimacing. Legilimency can done without making the target aware of what is happening. We would hardly need occulemency if that wasn’t the case. No, Potter, I haven’t been using legilimency on you.”

Harry didn’t even bother giving Malfoy a reply. It was obvious that he was fishing for a reaction, and Harry had already been aware of the possibility that Malfoy would try to do just what he’d said. Was it less likely that Malfoy would try to fool him like this now that he’d told Harry about the possibility? Or was Malfoy really that arrogant that he wanted to tell Harry what he was planning beforehand?

“Do you want to try once more?” Malfoy asked.

Harry looked at Malfoy and nodded slowly. The headache was there, but it was only a budding one. He could hardly tell himself that he was doing all he could if he gave up this easily. This time Harry tried not to be as obvious about what he was doing. He still pointed with the wand and breathed the words, but now he kept his eyes open and tried not to lose the sense of his surroundings. He was acutely aware that Malfoy was looking straight towards him, and time felt slower as Malfoy blinked and Harry stared as his eyelids slowly close. The haziness drew closer and Harry fought it this time. He tried to keep moving forwards, through the gathering fog and he felt that he was moving with increasing speed. Suddenly, there was an odd clarity to all and all around him there were… kittens. They gathered around him, pooling into piles of fluff and letting high screaks of meow to get his attention.

He was immediately thrown back to the uncomfortable chair and staring at the smirking Malfoy.

“Why the kittens?” Harry asked. He couldn’t figure it out himself.

“I think that was a nice touch,” Malfoy said. “I wanted to make it easy for you to tell if you actually made it as far as to a thought.”

“You were thinking about kittens?” Harry repeated.

Malfoy looked bored by the subject already, but was graceful enough to bother answering. “I don’t actually have to focus that hard on the image that I’m giving to those that are prying. I just need to have it defined and in the background of my mind. Kittens aren’t the image I’m usually using, of course. It makes a bad decoy because it makes it painfully obvious that I’m aware of someone trying to sense my thoughts.”

“I can’t even get a white emptiness working,” Harry admitted.

“That’s most likely because _you_ are doing it wrong, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Next time when you are practising with professor Lupin, try to imagine the haziness that you just went through. That’ll really throw him off.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. The weirdest thing about the words was that he was truly thankful. “I don’t trust you enough to ask you to help me practise _that._ ”

Malfoy just shook his head. “Still not interested in your mundane thoughts.”

They kept at the legilimency practice for a while. Harry got better at controlling the fog and haziness, but he didn’t reach the same quick success that had led him to seeing kittens for the first one time. He did get used to the image of kittens soon enough, and Malfoy had to start pushing him out by blurring even that image up. When he did that, Harry never managed to get behind it and had to start over again. They spoke little, mostly Malfoy being pleased with himself whenever he thought Harry managed to do something and then insulting Harry every time he didn’t reach Malfoy's unattainable expectations. All in all, Harry was pleased when he decided to call for a break for lunch.

Harry got up and paused at the door. “Do you want to eat now?” he asked.

Malfoy placed the wand in his robes and looked distant. He thought for a while before giving his answer. “No”, he said. “I don’t think so. I prefer eating in civilised company.”

Harry was surprised for a moment, but then reminded himself that he shouldn’t have expected anything else. Their current truce was an odd one. “Suit yourself,” Harry said and left the room, taking care not to close the door behind himself so that Malfoy would get out.

xxx

Harry wandered restlessly as he waited for Remus to show up. He wanted to put to test all that he’d learned that morning. There was also the additional anxiety brought by actually having something to hide from Remus this time – Harry wasn’t all too keen on letting Remus know how he’d learned something new. If all went well, he’d be able to distract Remus from those thoughts. If not, they’d have an awkward discussion about who to trust. Not that Remus would have much ground to stand on if he chose to lecture Harry about trust. If he and the Order hadn’t been so quick to not trust him, he would’ve hardly sought help from Malfoy. With that thought came back the now familiar, simmering anger – which would be put to good use as the strength he needed to conceal all his thoughts.

When Remus stepped out of the fireplace, he smiled warmly as he saw Harry waiting. He had a satchel with him which he placed carefully on the ground before sitting down on the other end of the couch. “I was thinking we’d do a short session today not to exhaust you,” Remus said. “Then I would like your help with administering a new patch of potions to Sirius. I met Madam Pomfrey yesterday to discuss a new strategy with this illness,” he explained. “She’s coming here tomorrow to examine how these new potions are affecting Sirius.”

“Alright,” Harry said. He was a bit disappointed that he might not get a chance to actually show some improvement, but his worry over Sirius was greater than his need to show off.

“She was less than pleased to still have to keep watching over Sirius. We might’ve ended up in the hospital wing more times than exactly necessary,” Remus said with obvious warmth in his voice. It was fleeting, however, and after a glance up the stairs he turned to Harry with weary determination. “We should get to the occulemency.”

Harry agreed and they soon found themselves in familiar positions. Remus sat in front of Harry, his brow already wrinkled in concentration. Harry felt the tingling of excitement rush through his body and a confident smile tried to tug his lips. The moment Remus said the spell words, Harry imagined himself surrounded by white fog that slipped through the fingers as one tried to grab it. The fog became both clearer and thicker in his mind. It became impassable, always shifting, disorienting. With a rush of excitement, Harry realised that the thought of fog was turning easier and easier to keep up without paying it much attention. Nudge here and there was enough to keep it in movement and wrapping it around himself like a protective blanket. Feeling more secure than he’d ever felt before with occulemancy, Harry started looking for Remus’s mental touch earnestly. He did not manage to find it, but he’d obviously done something right as Remus soon enough opened his eyes and smiled.

“That was impressive,” Remus said. “A real breakthrough.”

“Really?” Harry couldn’t help asking. He felt lighter.

“Definitely,” Remus agreed. “How did you come up with the idea of thinking of a fog? It really threw me off for a moment.”

“I- uh,” Harry muttered. He didn’t want to lie to Remus, especially not now when there was a big chance of any lies coming up. “It felt easier than clearing my mind.”

 “Let me try again,” Remus said.

They repeated the process several times, and although Harry did his best to keep the fog between himself and Remus prying eyes, he couldn’t entirely block Remus from entering his mind. It did take Remus considerably longer than before, though.

“There’s still a lot of work to do,” Remus said. “We ultimately want to reach the level where you can keep a low level occulemency spell on you all the time, even while sleeping.”

Harry just nodded. There was still ways to go, but at least he’d now gotten his foot between the door.

xxx

Harry watched from the door as Remus gave Sirius one glass vial after vial to drink. Sirius made faces with every bottle, but didn’t fight against them as much as Harry had expected. He did look sick, and the dusty lighting of the room didn’t help. The curtains were half drawn even though it was still bright outside. The tray with the lunch lay untouched.

Once the last vial was emptied, Sirius lay back on the bed and Remus stayed sitting close-by, holding his hand. There was silence until Sirius seemed to fall asleep. Remus got up, then paused, and Harry debated a moment if he should ask. However, he decided not to. He could see that Sirius had not made the miraculous turn to better that they all had hoped. Remus drew Harry out with him as he left the bedside. “He needs to rest. We are going to dry some drastic magic on him tomorrow. The last potion I gave him should keep him sleeping the rest of the day.”

“What if even that doesn't help?” Harry asked.

Remus closed the door behind them before giving Harry a look marred with concern. ”We have no idea what curse he was hit with,” he said. “What we are doing is treating the symptoms. But even though we are giving him extra energy through potions and feeding him cures against most of the illnesses we can think of, the heart of the problem still stays.”

“Can’t we find out which curse it was?” Harry asked.

“Probably not,” Remus replied. He shook his head sadly. “It happened in a flash and no-one could see or hear the spell. Looking through all the known curses with this kind of symptoms is simply too big of an undertaking.”

“But we have to try something,” Harry said.

“We are, Harry,” Remus said and placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. “As I said, Madam Pomfrey is coming over tomorrow and she has promised to try ever spell she can think of until we fix this. She is an incredible Healer.”

When Remus left, Harry was not reassured. He just stood there at the end of the stairs and stared at the empty fireplace. His small moment of triumph had been replaced with silent, oppressing dread.

“So, how did it go?” Malfoy asked from up the stairs.

Harry hadn’t heard him come close and was startled by the words. He turned to look at Malfoy, his thin frame and his haughty self-confidence. “It went better,” Harry admitted, but that was all he had the stomach to say. He wanted to hide. He didn’t want to deal with Malfoy now. He wanted everything to stop slipping through his hands like the fog he'd imagined earlier. This had supposed to be the summer when he'd finally get to be happy. It did not look like it. Harry started climbing the stairs and passed Malfoy without looking at him. “I’m tired,” he said as an explanation that sounded weak even to his own ears.

Malfoy said nothing and walked down the stairs to silent first floor.

Grimmauld Place was creaking silently by itself.


	4. What you do not know

Harry didn’t feel like practising with Malfoy the following day and said as much when they met at the breakfast table again. Malfoy just shrugged at the news and disappeared to his room after a while. Sirius was still out, and Harry wandered aimlessly in the house during the morning hours. Sometime before noon the fireplace crackled and Harry wandered down to meet Remus and Madam Pomfrey. However, it was Hermione and Ron that he met in the hall when he scaled down the stairs.

“Hi, Harry,” Hermione said in a wide smile and gave him a warm hug. She held to him a bit longer than usually and Ron had to clear his throat before she let go. Ron too gave Harry a hug, a lot shorter one, but equally warm.

“We thought we would come to keep you company. I can only imagine how horrible it’s here with Malfoy hiding in the shadows. Where is he, anyway?” Ron said and looked around expecting to find Malfoy standing somewhere.

“He keeps mostly to his room,” Harry said. “But I do appreciate the gesture.”

“We also have something that you could help us with,” Hermione said. She was already placing heavy books on the table from her impossible large bag. “I got to loan this from Dumbledore,” she explained as Harry looked at the lumpy bag curiously. “I was also granted an unusual permission to borrow books out from the Hogwarts library. These are the spell books that should be most interesting. I cannot be entirely sure that there isn’t anything that’s labelled obscurely, but-“

“That’s already more than we’re ever going to read through”, Ron interrupted her. She huffed a bit, but didn’t stop to argue.

“What are we looking for?” Harry asked.

“We are no longer allowed to show up on the operational meetings of the Order,” Hermione explained. “I asked for something we _could_ help out with. And this is it.”

“They don’t let you go to the meetings?” Harry asked, disbelieving and feeling just a bit ashamed. He’d been angry at his friends – silently, in the secrecy of his room – without any reason. He should’ve known better.

“They thought we would tell you everything if we did,” Ron admitted. “I might’ve said as much myself.”

“They do have a point,” Hermione said, flustered herself. “The less people are in the know, the smaller the chance that someone is forced to reveal our secrets. And we shouldn’t talk more about these things. Grimmauld place isn’t secure right now.”

They all looked at the stairs, but nobody was there. Harry was acutely reminded of how dangerous it was working with legilimency and occulemnecy with Malfoy. Hermione would call him reckless and Ron would freak out if he revealed that Malfoy was a legilimens. Harry looked at the empty stairs a while longer. How many people even knew that Malfoy knew legilimency? Had he used it one people in the past? Harry couldn’t think of any situation where it would’ve been obvious.

“There’s a library here as well,” Hermione said to break the silence. “I was hoping there might be some books bordering on dark arts that could help us as well.”

“What are we looking for? You never said,” Harry asked.

“Right. Remus owled me yesterday and said that someone could try to find out the curse that Sirius was hit with. Then we wouldn’t have to keep with this guessing game.”

“This isn’t my idea of fun, but it’s for a good reason,” Ron said and grimaced. Harry returned a sympathetic smile because he knew exactly what Ron meant. He did look forward to doing something that might help Sirius and the Order – that it involved reading through many, many books did tamper the excitement quite a bit, nevertheless.

They went through the library and added all the books that felt even little relevant to the already daunting pile in the living room. The rest of the afternoon was spent looking through them, searching for curses, spells and cures that matched the long list of symptoms that Remus had supplied Hermione with. They took a short break around teatime to welcome Madame Pomfrey who was escorted by Remus to the house. During that ruckus, Harry saw a small glimpse of Malfoy as he looked at the gathering from top of the stairs before disappearing again. Harry struggled to focus while Madam Pomfrey and Remus were working upstairs with Sirius, but he kept trying. The worked without breaks until they were so tired of leafing through the dusty pages that only Hermione could continue working. Despite going through what seemed like more books than Harry had seen during his whole life, they hadn’t found any mention of a course that could cause the kind of extensive, lasting fatigue that plagued Sirius now.

“There are several fatigue spells,” Hermione said. She was making notes and trying to figure out a way to go through the books faster. “But none of them have seemed to have an ongoing effect like this. They just exhaust a person immediately and then leave the body, allowing the victim to recover.”

“What do you get out of that?” Ron asked. He yawned.

“That we are not looking for a fatigue spell. Or it’s not the main component,” she said and crossed over some of her notes. “The spell must’ve been something that draws energy from the victim, but the fatigue is a symptom, not the aim.”

Harry was listening, but was slowly getting demoralised. He just kept hitting walls and not getting anywhere. Helping the Order, occulemancy, now searching cure for Sirius. He leaned back in the armchair and closed his eyes. “There are too many spells out there for us to find the right one. The only way might be to find out who cast the spell and ask them,” he said. This was just as pointless as Remus had warned him about yesterday.

A silence followed his words. Harry opened his eyes and saw Hermione deep in thought. When Hermione noticed him looking, she answered his gaze and in her eyes he could see that she’d realised something. “We’ve been doing this completely wrong,” she said.

Ron let a pained cry. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“We can’t obviously find a curse based on symptoms this vague. We should be working on diagnostic spells that could tell us more. It’s already been days so the traces might be faint…“

“Wouldn’t they already have cast thousands of diagnostic spells on him by now?” Ron asked.

Hermione nodded, but she was obviously thinking of something more. “They are looking for what’s in the body. They are looking for the curse. I think we should look for the one who cursed him.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”  Harry asked. "I can't think of any spell that would allow us to do that."

“Well, I’m going to look into it,” Hermione said. Neither Harry nor Ron protested. They called it a night. Malfoy had occupied the room Hermione had stayed last she'd been here and neither of them wanted to take the room with the portraits. It was easy enough to floo to the Burrow and back, they decided and Harry saw his friends down to the kitchen fireplace. Hermione took some of the books with her – so that she could look them if she had trouble sleeping, she said and nobody believed. However, Harry wasn’t about to stop her for spending her night with a challenge she was clearly willing to face. They all promised to reconvene tomorrow and continue looking for other options, and then Harry was left standing alone in the room.

Harry made his way then to see how Sirius and the others were faring and found Madam Pomfrey and Remus discussing in quiet tones at Sirius’ door. They both fell quiet when Harry approached and concluded their discussion but Harry didn’t need to ask to know what they were talking. There had not been a miraculous turn to the better and they were just as lost and unsure what more they could do as Harry, Hermione and Ron were. As Remus left for the night, he gave Harry a weary smile and promised to explain what they had tried and what they would be trying when he’d had a moment to rest. Alone again, save for a Malfoy who kept out of sight, Harry stood a long while at Sirius’ door and wondered what the future held.

xxx

The following morning Harry was the first one to find his way to the kitchen. He gave the empty room a quick glance before he quickly made himself a cup of tea and wandered back up again, this time finding himself a seat by the window in the library. It was a bleak day, the grey mist reaching up to even the second-floor windows. Harry held on to warmth of the cup and stared as the mist wandered on the street and twirled around the trees lining the sidewalk. Once the sun would be up, the air would surely clear up but for now it looked like something sinister was waiting out there, waiting... He must’ve nodded at some point, because he was startled awake by sharp knocking on the window. A tiny owl was waiting for him to open the window up, and was getting impatient, jumping from one feet to the other and furiously knocking on the window with its beak once in a while.

Harry pushed the window open and allowed the owl to hop onto the table next to the chair he was curled up in. The owl didn’t waste any time before it offered a leg, practically pushing the small piece of parchment tied around it into Harry’s hands. He had hardly had the time to unravel it before the bird was on its way again.

“Whose owl was that?” Malfoy asked. He stood by the door and looked pale in the grey light. Harry looked up at him and then back at the parchment. Could this have been the letter Malfoy had waited for? But as he turned the paper in his hands, Harry could see that the name scribbled on it was distinctly his.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. He hadn’t recognised the owl, but this being a hub for messages to and from the Order, several unfamiliar owls found their way here. “It addressed to me, though,” he said. Malfoy immediately looked less interested in what it had to say and try as he might to hide it, Harry could not help but notice how crushed he’d looked before he turned his head away. Malfoy was also waiting to get away from here, of course. Harry had already given up hope that the letter would arrive, but Malfoy obviously hadn’t.

Harry looked at the letter and read it. It was from Remus and said very little while telling a lot more. _I can’t make it today. Everything will be fine_ , was all that was written on the letter. Harry had a hard time believing the reassurance at the end. He folded the piece of paper and turned it into ash with a simple spell. It was obviously something to do with the Order, and although the letter itself had been innocent, Harry was now acutely aware that Malfoy was staring him. However, he just looked at him without asking the question. Harry put his wand away, and gathered the dust into his teacup.

“I won’t be practising occulemency with Remus today, so I might as well work with you”, Harry said.

Malfoy accepted this with a shrug. “I don’t have anything better to do.” He turned to head down the stairs when there was the sound of wings beating and a second owl landed onto the windowsill. It dropped the paper it carried in its feet unceremoniously where it had landed and left as quickly as it had appeared. Malfoy hardly seemed to think what he was doing before he’d called the morning’s Daily Prophet to himself. However, before it reached Malfoy, Harry grabbed it from the air. Malfoy just raised an eyebrow questioningly, but allowed Harry to have the paper without a fight.

 _Devastating attack against the St Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries – Minister of Magic condemns the attack_ read the headline. Harry just stared at the paper, unsure what he was seeing. He couldn’t decipher Remus’ message any better now. Instead, he was filled by a different kind of dread. Everything seemed to be escalating and getting out of hand and he had nothing he could do about it.

“Something’s happened,” Malfoy said. He waited a moment for Harry to explain, but ultimately grew too impatient and just walked over and took the paper from him. He read it fast, his face betraying no emotion. “They don’t say anything.”

“It’s the Daily Prophet,” Harry said. “They never do.”

Malfoy threw the paper back to Harry and it landed on the table in front of him. Harry didn’t feel like picking it up. They locked eyes. Harry wondered what Malfoy was thinking. He must’ve known that Harry thought this had something to do with the Death Eaters - people Malfoy was very much affiliated with. None of this was something Harry felt like saying aloud now. Earlier, he might’ve, but now a hostile Malfoy was one of the things he needed the least in his life.

Surprisingly, Malfoy seemed share Harry’s calm over this. “Do you still want to practise today?” he asked almost casually, only a pregnant pause after his words betraying that he waited anxiously for the answer.

Harry nodded.

Malfoy took a few steps towards the door and gave Harry a curious look as he didn’t raise to follow him.

“Sirius won’t wake up, and there’s no-one else to disturb us. We can just as well practise here,” Harry said. He wanted to stay close to the window to get any owls directly if there would be any news. Malfoy didn’t question, just sat down on the closest chair.

“I hope you are planning to do better today,” Malfoy said as he crossed his arms. He’d found his haughty shell again.

Harry just rolled his eyes as an answer. He took his wand, and went through the motions of casting the spell almost routinely. The world blurred just slightly and Harry’s consciousness rushed through the air. He tried clawing his way through the fog and dizziness and- was cast out.

“Too slow,” Malfoy said looking at his nails. “Even a child would’ve noticed what you were doing. Try thinking less like a bull and more like a sensible human being.”

“You don’t have to annoy me. I can do this just fine already without being irritated,” Harry said.

Malfoy didn’t buy it, but waived his hand like a royalty who was being extremely gracious.

“ _Legilimens_!” Harry breathed and threw his consciousness forward, imagine himself passing through the air like cold wind. He didn’t even get up to any speed before Malfoy brushed him aside with a flick of his hand.

“With less force.”

“I get it,” Harry said. “You were going easy on me before. Could you allow me to practise now?”

“We _are_ practising”, Malfoy replied drawing on the word. He flashed a perfectly infuriating smile.

“ _Fine,_ ” Harry said and without giving Malfoy a pause to think, cast the spell and tried to see his goal in front of himself. For a moment he was sure that he’d seen something besides the shapeless blur, and then he heard Malfoy yawn dramatically.

“You don’t need to announce your intentions _that_ loudly, Potter,” Malfoy said. “I’ll let you try once more. Come on, are you afraid?”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment to focus, and to keep his calm. Malfoy was smirking when Harry opened his eyes again. He stared right back and didn’t even blink as he calmly said the spellword aloud. This time there wasn’t even a fog to blind him. He lived and breathed the thoughts of Malfoy. He looked around, trying to catch a thought from the buzzing. There was a thought, an image that called to him. He reached towards it and it started unravelling for him-

_He saw himself, staring. He looked scared – no, just uncertain. He was heading towards Malfoy who was sitting in the library, his back turned to Harry and clearly not aware of him. Harry was hesitating just a bit with his steps. Harry couldn’t decipher why or what he had to say to Malfoy, but he was also unable to look away. He didn’t remember this moment but he knew that he was nervous, so very nervous, his heart was beating so hard that he could not hear his thoughts over the noise. Every step was harder to take, his legs growing weak underneath him so that soon they would be too weak to carry him. When Harry was finally close enough to touch, he reached out but before he could touch, Malfoy turned around and Harry’s courage fled him. Malfoy was so unbearably gorgeous that oh god Harry wished he could kiss him._

Harry was immediately backing away from the thought. Was Malfoy really thinking about something like that? He blinked rapidly without knowing where to look. His cheeks were burning fiercely. What would he say if Malfoy asked what he’d managed to see?

“ _So,_ Potter,” Malfoy said. “Did you enjoy what you found?”

Harry looked up and burned even brighter. Malfoy was laughing. Of course. This had been something that Mafloy had planned, and the plan had worked magnificently. “Why would you do that?” Harry said, hardly trusting his voice. "Why would I ever-? What's wrong with you?"

“Ah, but it is entertaining,” Malfoy replied, practically purring with satisfaction. “It’s so very easy to gauge a reaction out of innocent, virgin Gryffindors. It’s almost no game at all.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Which part are you protesting now, Potter?” Malfoy asked. “Did you feel proud about breaching my mind? Finding dirty secrets? You should be prepared for a lot worse if you truly want to learn to use legilimency.”

“I don’t need your kind of legilimency,” Harry said. “I’d be just happy with understanding occulemnecy.”

“You had some objections about me teaching you occulemency,” Malfoy said.

“That doesn’t mean you have to do things like… _that_!” Harry grumbled, losing confidence with every word. Malfoy just smiled brighter.

“So, Potter, do you want to truly find out what I am thinking?” Malfoy asked, all innocent smile. “Or maybe you might want to know what I really think about _you_?”

“No!” Harry yelped. He couldn’t help but flash red and get completely tangled in his words. What was he supposed to say to that and not sound like a completely idiot? He just stared at Malfoy, half horrified, half stupefied, completely frozen.

It was at that moment that a thump could be heard from downstairs. Soon after followed the sounds of Ron and Hermione making the way up the stairs, and then suddenly the two of them, with a lumpy bag in tow, stood at the door to the library. The four of them stared at each other all equally surprised. Harry stumbled up to his feet once the initial shock had passed, still extremely flustered and very much aware of that he wore his feelings on his sleeve. Ron glared at Malfoy, a hand obviously searching for a wand in his robe. Hermione looked cautious, her eyes darting back and forth between all of them, trying to read the situation. And Malfoy, Harry saw when looking back, had hidden behind his crossed arms and a cold sneer.

“Everything okay here, Harry?” Ron asked. He was walking towards them, clearly suspicious about what was going on, but not yet drawing out his wand.

“Yeah,” Harry said. He took a few steps towards his friends, becoming a barrier between his friends and Malfoy in doing so. “It’s alright,” he said, noticeably softer this time. There was no reason to be worried about what was going on. Harry still hesitated telling them that he’d allowed Malfoy to teach him occulemency. It was stupid on so many levels that he didn’t want to drag either Hermione or Ron into it. Neither of them would’ve understood it any better than Harry himself did and if it ever came out, they didn’t need to be blamed. As for the reason he looked so upset, no, Harry most definitely didn’t want to explain it. It would’ve only entertained Malfoy. “I didn’t expect you to show up this early,” Harry said to distract mostly himself.

Hermione let go of the bag and allowed it to drop on the floor with a loud thump. “We thought you shouldn’t have to spend the whole day alone. What with-“ _St Mungos._ Hermione mouthed the last word and glanced at Malfoy. They couldn’t talk about it with Malfoy here, obviously.

“Any more news?” Harry asked quietly, still fully aware that Malfoy would hear them. Still, he wanted to know. To his disappointment, Hermione shook her head.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but Malfoy is staring at us,” Ron said. He said the words while looking at Harry and Hermione, but it was painfully obvious who’d been meant to hear them.

“I can hardly not see you when you decide to stand right in front of me,” Malfoy said. His tone was cold. Harry was confused by it – it didn’t sound familiar. Or it did, it did sound like Malfoy, but it didn’t sound like the Malfoy that Harry had had the questionable pleasure of spending the last few days with. The Malfoy who’d overstayed his welcome at the Grimmauld Place by several days now sounded always bored and insulted, but he rarely quite this harsh and cold.

“We should go to your room,” Hermione said. She looked first at Ron and Harry and got them to nod in agreement, and then she stared at Malfoy for a while. Harry glanced back to see what Hermione was seeing. Malfoy looked less than impressed, but he seemed not to be interested in starting a fight. Or at least he was not interested in starting one with her because immediately when Malfoy noticed that Harry had turned to look, he was back to his throughoutly insulted self. Harry decided not to think about it more and picked up the bag Hermione left on the floor before leading them up the stairs.

The first thing Harry realised upon entering his room was that the chairs where still where they’d been left by his and Malfoy’s last practise session here. Ron and Hermione didn’t notice anything out of place, though, and as Harry stopped at the door, they just pushed their way past him into the room. Hermione took the bag from Harry and placed it in the armchair that Malfoy had moved around. Ron sat down at the edge of the bed. Before either of them noticed something was wrong, Harry closed the door behind them. He carried the chair he’d moved back to its place and then sat down on the bed, leaning to the headboard. Hermione sat down on the bed as well, finding herself a corner by the footboard.

“Do you know anything?” Hermione asked Harry.

Now Harry wished he wouldn’t have been as quick to burn the letter. He could still remember, if not word for word, what the letter had said.

“It sounds like he doesn’t want you to worry,” Hermione said. She seemed equally frustrated.

Ron shook his head. “I am getting tired of this summer already.”

“It does seem like something is about to happen,” Harry said. He didn’t like how little he actually knew about what was happening. The grim looks on the faces of his friends told Harry that they shared his sentiment. “In every case, we are alone in this again. Sirius can’t help us. Remus said he would be sleeping through the whole day. Some potent sleeping draught.”

“I worked on my theory all night, about diagnostic spells that could reveal the caster,” Hermione said. She did look tired, now that she mentioned that. “I couldn’t find any evidence that it would’ve been researched before. It just seems to be something that no-one in the wizarding history has ever even considered important. I can't understand why.” She sounded upset by the fact.

Ron took hold of her hand and smiled reassuringly. “If someone is going to find out that you can actually do that, you will. You are brilliant.” He then quickly let go of her hand and looked bit embarrassed. “I mean- You won’t give up before you’ve found the answer. Everybody knows that.”

Hermione smiled carefully. She then called a book from the bag to herself and searched for a specific page. Once she found it, she spent a moment to read it as if to make sure that she was certain about it before showing it to Harry and Ron. “I did find this.”

The book was old and the text was hard to read. It took Harry a while to get hang of it, but soon enough he had at least the title of the page deciphered. “It’s about memory potions?”

“Not just that, but it talks about how it is sometimes possible to remember things that one doesn’t remember.”

“Like false memories?” Ron asked.

“No- No, it’s more like it gives you so much clarity in your thoughts that you remember things that you never properly noticed. There’s a lot of things that our ears hear and eyes see that we never acknowledge at all. It’s to keep our brains from getting overcrowded-“

“You think you could make Sirius remember who cast the curse and what it was?” Harry said.

Now Hermione smiled brightly. “It’s a long shot, but I was thinking that it could work.”

“Do we even find a solution to that diagnostic thing of yours if we have this?” Ron asked.

“Probably not,” Hermione said. “It did lead me into looking memory spells and potions. It’s still an interesting subject that should’ve been researched. Think how much easier it would make catching people who’ve caste malevolent spells. You don’t need to check their wands anymore – it would be enough to scan the victim.” Hermione took a pause to draw breath. “Although, that can wait until we’ve cured Sirius.”

They all agreed that this memory potion was the most promising idea they had and started outlining a plan. There were several ingredients that they needed in order to create this potion that might prove to be difficult to find. They talked about telling at least Sirius what they were doing, but decided that they could wait until the potion was ready. They might not be able to get it working – no point making it into an option before they actually had something to try out. After eating a light lunch put together, Ron and Hermione left to gather the resources they thought they could get without bigger problems. If all went well, they'd be brewing it in a few days time. Ron was sure some of the herbs grew in their garden, and Hermione talked about owling a few people who’d be likely to give her materials. Fondly, Harry thought back to the time they created Polujuice Potion together - Harry had felt the same easy excitement for a while, a trust in that they would succeed and everything would be better soon. 

Harry stood alone in the kitchen after Hermione and Ron had used the floo-network to return to the Burrow. He was contemplating if he too could leave to the Burrow. He wanted to, but the thought of Sirius alone with Malfoy didn’t feel right.

“I’m bored.”

Harry had by now learned not to get overtly startled by Malfoy appearing out of nowhere, but he really wished that Malfoy would stop doing it. He turned to see Malfoy standing at the threshold to the kitchen, leaning to the wall, and looking bored.

“Did you enjoy your day with your friends, Potter?” Malfoy asked. Somehow the innocent question sounded like an insult coming from him.

“I did, but I don’t know what it is to you,” Harry replied.

“They did cut into our practise time.”

Harry really didn’t know what Malfoy was getting with this. “You didn’t really seem to all that interested in actually teaching me anything useful today.”

“I can’t go easy on you all the time,” Malfoy said as if it would’ve explained something. “Besides, I’m bored now and I want something entertaining to do.”

Harry opened his mouth to tell Malfoy to get lost, but got second thoughts. “Fine. But nothing weird this time.”

Nothing in the smirk Malfoy gave made Harry to trust him. Despite that, Harry actually got to try his legilimency without interruptions for a few hours that evening. Malfoy treated him with an impassable wall of white, and kept insulting Harry’s intelligence through it. When they’d had enough, Harry was for once tired enough to fall asleep directly.

Harry woke up only a few hours later. He was covered in sweat and his heart was beating fast and hard. He couldn’t remember anything specific, but he knew this hadn’t been an ordinary nightmare. He sat up, drawing the covers closer. He didn’t dare to close his eyes in case that _something_ was still there. He felt utterly lost. He’d just wanted a summer to himself, of getting to know Sirius and just being free from the Dursleys for good. What he got was a nightmarish version of it. He had a hard time finding anything to hold onto. Sirius, the adult Harry had wanted to steady his life with, was hardly here now, grawing weaker with every passing day. The other adults he’d had to rely on more or less – Remus, Dumbledore, the Weasleys – felt distant. They couldn’t stay here constantly, Harry knew that. He didn’t want to demand that from them, not really.

He didn’t know what he wanted. He understood so very little. Something had happened at St Mungos yesterday, and Harry knew nothing about it. The Order of The phoenix had obviously taken an interest in what had gone down, but since Harry was barred from the meetings there was no telling why or what they planned to do about it. That thing that had started this all – Malfoy Manor burning – was still just a detached disaster. No, no... It must be connected with everything and it was still changing Harry’s life in ways he couldn’t understand. Malfoy had become a reality at the Grimmauld place. Malfoy existed as something more than a sneer and mean words. What that existence was, Harry couldn’t put a finger on but he could feel it coiling tighter around him, changing everything.

Harry was tired, but he couldn’t sleep anymore. He got up and tiptoed to the door using a simple spell to light the way. The sphere of light wavered just a step before him, hardly creating shadows with its pale flicker. Harry didn’t really have a plan – he felt like he was wandering in cotton – and just headed for the kitchen for a glass of water. It sometimes helped him to calm down, and if nothing else, he would be closer to the sitting room and the comfy couch. 

However, he’d not gotten far down the stairs before he realised that he wasn’t alone. Malfoy was sitting in the sitting room, in one of the armchairs, the one with its back towards the stairs. Harry wouldn’t have noticed him at all if his hair wouldn’t have given such strong contrast to the dark fabric of the chair. Harry hesitated. He could still head back without Malfoy even realising he was here. He thought about it, and decided that he didn’t want to turn back. This time it was less about him stubbornly not allowing Malfoy to affect his life and more about curiosity what had brought Malfoy up in the middle of the night.

Malfoy noticed Harry once Harry stepped on the last, creaking step. The moment that should’ve been awkward was surprisingly mellow. Malfoy looked tired and just turned his gaze away when Harry stared back. Harry didn’t allow himself to stop now and walked across the room to sit down on the couch. He wrapped his arms around his knees and waited.

Malfoy looked uncharacteristically empty. He sat very still, drawn into a ball, taking very little place in the armchair. “What do you want, Potter?” he asked after a quiet moment had passed. He did sound annoyed, but only slightly so. He sounded mostly tired. He blinked slowly, his attention only partly there.

“Just wondering why you’re up in the middle of the night,” Harry replied.

Malfoy tilted his head just slightly and looked at Harry, trying to read what Harry might’ve left unsaid. “Sometimes, sleeping is not an option.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry said. He smiled weakly. ”Do you want to talk about it?” he tried then. He didn’t expect Malfoy to want to share anything.

Malfoy did give him a suspicious look. “I didn’t think we were friends,” he said.

“No, I guess not,” Harry said. He'd tried friendly before and it hadn't worked. He doubted they'd ever reach the point where they'd be actual friends. “It might work if you stopped insulting everyone I like. Maybe even apologized.”

“Not going to happen,” Malfoy said. He sounded a bit more awake. “Were you having one of your famous Potter-nightmares?” he then asked. He managed to make it sound like Harry actually enjoyed his nightmares and the attention they got.

“I didn’t know me having nightmares was that interesting. I didn’t think they were that famous.”

“Potter, everything you do is worth printing on the front page of the Prophet. Of course everybody gets to hear about your prophetic dreams,” Malfoy said, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Especially what you did at the end of this year at Hogwarts was extremely well reported.”

“Why do you care?” Harry asked.

“I don’t.” Malfoy stayed quiet for a long while. Harry had already started to drift back towards sleep when Malfoy finally continued. “I keep dreaming that I’d gotten back earlier.”

Harry was completely awake with the words. He sat upright. Malfoy was pointedly not watching towards Harry.

“I was visiting Pansy. I wasn’t supposed to come back before the weekend,” Malfoy said. “I got an owl that evening that I was wanted back home immediately. I always carry a portkey for that purpose so I could've gotten home that instant. I didn't- I thought a few hours wouldn't matter. Expect this time they did. Manor was already burning by the time I got back.”

“You got an owl? Was it from your parents?” Harry latched to the detail.

Malfoy shook his head. “I thought so then. I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it since.”

“What if someone wanted you dead too?” Harry asked. "If the letter was to lure you back?"

Malfoy lifted his head and looked at Harry. “It’s possible,” he said without much emotion.

Harry just knew that the detail had to be important. “The owl must’ve been sent from someone who knew where you were.”

“That leaves many suspects,” Malfoy said. “Most of them my _friends_.” His tone was getting colder again. He didn’t want to talk about this.

Harry didn’t think he’d get another change like this. “The same friends that haven’t contacted you since then?”

“I did get a letter yesterday,” Malfoy said. “You were busy with your friends,” he added before Harry had even asked a question.

“And?” Harry asked. His heat skipped a beat with anticipation. He didn’t know what answer he was looking forward to.

Malfoy looked out through the window when he spoke, and his voice was cold and clear. “I can’t expect any help from them now.”

“But why?” Harry asked. He was surprised by how upset he sounded.

“It doesn’t matter, a Malfoy will survive on his own,” Malfoy said.

“Doesn’t friendship matter to them at all? How can they not care enough to-“

“These are all people that cannot expect _any_ help from people like you, the ministry or the Aurors. You can only imagine how careful they need to be,” Malfoy said. His voice was drawn thin, but it was growing in power. “You don’t get to judge them.”

“How can you just accept that?” Harry asked. He thought better of telling Malfoy that his Death Eater friends were not being persecuted by the wizarding world at large. They’d most definitely brought it all on themselves, and Harry doubted how difficult they had it what with the Ministry doing their best to not protecting anyone. Harry wasn’t looking for an argument this night and so he stayed quiet.

“Do you know why I accepted Professor Dumbledore’s offer to come here?” Malfoy asked.

“I’ve wondered,” Harry replied.

“Because I know how to survive,” Malfoy said.

“And is that why you’ve agreed to teach me occulemenccy?” Harry asked.

“It doesn’t hurt to have the hero of the people to be in debt for you.”

“Didn’t know you thought that highly of me.”

“I don’t,” Malfoy said. “You have strategic value now.  As a person you are insufferable.”

“And still you are talking to me,” Harry said.

Malfoy just huffed. “You think too highly of yourself, Potter. The only reason I’m talking to you is because I had a lapse of judgement. It’s the middle of the night and I’m tired. You took advantage of the situation.”

Harry shifted his position. He lay his head down on the armrest. He could hardly see Malfoy now, but it didn’t matter. For some peculiar reason Harry felt happy enough to smile. He also felt extremely sleepy again. “I think you should try to sleep, Malfoy”, Harry muttered. “So that I don’t get a chance to catch you unawares again.”


	5. Extending an invitation

Sirius was the one to wake Harry up the following morning. Harry was a bit bewildered at first before he understood that he’d actually fallen asleep on the couch. “G’mornig,” he mumbled.

Sirius smiled. He seemed to be feeling a lot better. “I don’t recommend you sleep a lot longer. Sleeping through a day or two will make you hungry,” he said. Sirius led them to the kitchen and they had a proper breakfast for once.

After a while, Malfoy wandered down the stairs. He was fully dressed and had most likely been up for a while by now. Still, Harry felt like wishing good morning. Malfoy glared at him as he did that and turned quickly around and disappeared back up the stairs. Harry stared after him, trying to understad wha had made Malfoy extra vicious today. The only conclusion Harry could come up with was that it was probably because of their discussion during the night. When Harry stopped staring the spot where Malfoy had been before disappearing, he noticed that Sirius looked worried. “It’s fine,” Harry said and smiled reassuringly. “We are still being civil. More or less.”

“I wonder how much longer he’s going to stay,” Sirius muttered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to help you deal with this. The potions just drain all of my energy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said firmly. “He got a letter yesterday, though.”

Sirius guessed what the letter had said before Harry told him anything else. “They’ve always been a bunch of cowards, all of them. I understand why Dumbledore didn’t want to leave him out there. I only hope he has come up with another solution the next time there’s an order meeting.”

“He told me something that I should tell to the Order,” Harry said. He hadn’t thought about using the information as bargaining chip, but once he’d said the words, he knew that was what he would do. “I am better at occulemency already. I should be allowed back to the meetings.”

Sirius looked at him curiously, but then smiled proudly. “Never stop fighting,” he said. “We do need to talk with Remus about this. Or, let’s make that you. I think I need to rest some more. The things that Madam Pomfrey had are really vile.”

Harry helped Sirius back to bed and stayed at his bedside for a while, talking. He could see Sirius energy draining and that left him deeply unsettled. Whatever that was going on was now getting worse. Harry closed the door to Sirius room carefully and then went directly to Malfoy’s door. There was no time to lose. Harry was sick and tired of not being able to do anything. He _would_ convince Remus today to let him re-join the Order meetings and then he would find a way to fight Voldemort and put an end to this misery.

Harry didn’t even bother knocking. He just pushed the door open and stepped inside. The next thing he knew was that a spell pushed him back against the door. It was not a violent spell, but it kept him immobilised. Malfoy had been sitting by the window and had now gotten up to his feet. He was not in a better mood. “I don’t really care for unannounced visits, Potter,” he said coldly.

“This can be the last time,” Harry said. “This can be the last day you stay here. I just need your help one last time.”

Malfoy walked closer, still keeping the spell alive. “I don’t get you, Potter,” he said. “What do you really want with me?”

“Are you pissed about last night?” Harry asked. “Because if you are, that’s your problem. You obviously wanted to talk. You can stop blaming me.”

Malfoy stared a moment and then unceremoniously dropped the curse. He turned his back to Harry and walked back to the armchair by the window. He sat down and crossed his legs. The light coming from the window left his face in shadow, and created a halo for his hair. “If you want to practise your pitiful excuse of legilimency, go ahead. Just know that I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Harry replied. He looked around for a chair, but found none. Although it forced him to look at Malfoy from an uncomfortable angle, Harry decided to sit down by the door. He then stared at Malfoy intently. Malfoy didn’t back down an inch. Harry had several questions still on the tip of his tongue, but he decided to swallow them. Malfoy was okay with them practising – that was what Harry needed, nothing more.

Harry hardly heard the spell as he muttered it. By now, he could be certain that once he started searching with his mind’s eye he always found his target. The white, impassable wall was there again, but this time Harry didn’t give up. Anticipating Malfoys attempt to brush him aside Harry started searching for a weak spot. He wanted some ammunition to use against Malfoy: Why did Malfoy allow him to do even this much with him? What did Malfoy really feel under that layer of calculated composure? He wanted _something real_.

Malfoy shielded his mind without a fault. Few attempts later, Harry allowed his head to drop and stared at the floor. He’d never noticed that the patterns of the carpet were discretely rearranging themselves – they reminded him of the waves of the sea. “How are you so good at this?” Harry asked. He looked up. Malfoy looked angry, but Harry couldn’t tell who he was angry at. It was probably Harry, it usually was.

“It is a useful skill,” Malfoy replied to. “There’s nothing wrong in knowing it.”

“I didn’t imply there was,” Harry snapped. “What happened? We were tolerating each other just fine!”

Malfoy stopped. He tilted his head. “Why do you care? We are not and will never be friends. I don’t even want to be here.”

Malfoy tried to look away, but Harry caught his eyes and for some reason Malfoy froze again. Without stopping to think what he was doing, Harry tried to use legilimency without saying the words aloud. He didn’t feel his lips moving. Harry knew with furious certainty that _Malfoy didn’t want to be here. He wanted his friends to not be cowards and thinking about themselves. He wanted to turn back time so that the letter would not have arrived. He wanted to live in hope. He wanted to go home._

Malfoy’s face turned pale and his eyes grew wide. His hand tightened into a fist, but otherwise he didn’t move. “I-I didn’t,” Harry stuttered. He was uncertain what had happened. No, that wasn’t it - he knew what had happened. What he did not know was how he’d managed to actually catch Malfoy unawares. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, but the words were meaningless. Harry tried discretely to get hold of his wand, afraid of how Malfoy would react. Malfoy was clearly careful about his thoughts, his façade and his privacy. He would lash out. He would forget all consequences. He would hex Harry and this time there would not be anyone to stop him…

Malfoy pinched his nose. “Congrats, Potter,” he said. The anger was gone, replaces by tiredness. “Congrats on fucking breaking me.”

Harry pried open his grip on his wand unsure what he was supposed to do now. Then Malfoy looked at him again and had completely regained himself. “I’m not made of porcelain, Potter. So you managed to catch me unawares. Good for you,” he said. He tidied up his hair where Harry couldn’t see a stray out of place. “Now you know what it takes to keep your thoughts guarded all the time. I doubt you can do it longer than few minutes.”

“I can’t. At all,” Harry said. He was still cautious about the situation. He couldn’t read Malfoy at all right now. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Malfoy said emphasizing every word.

“I think you might,” Harry said. The thought had come to him out of nowhere and wouldn’t leave him. “You’ve been cast out by the people you call friends. You are here stuck with me which is, of course, the worst fate we can imagine for both of us.”

“You left out the most obvious reason,” Malfoy said. He smiled, but there was no laughter to that smile. It was hardly more than a sneer. “Don’t you think orphans should stick together?”

“Do you want to talk about your parents?” Harry asked. He tried to be as sensitive as he could.

“What is there to say?” Malfoy asked. He shrugged. “They are dead.”

“But surely you-“ Harry tried, but couldn’t find the words. How much could he even try to force Malfoy to talk about this?

“Let’s just get back to practising. We’ve wasted enough of my time already,” Malfoy said. He managed to look inpatient to such a degree that as Harry looked at him he could almost forget that this wasn’t the Malfoy that he knew. Or was it? Harry hesitated. He should think less about what he needed and more about what he could do to help Malfoy. It was all wrong. He didn’t want to help Malfoy, but he couldn’t leave things like they were. “I will find someplace else to be soon enough,” Malfoy said as if reading Harry’s thoughts. “You wanted to practise. This might be your last chance.”

Harry was not sure if he wanted to anymore, but since Malfoy had offered him this possibility, he decided to go with it. Malfoy was right, he’d be gone soon enough. Harry took his wand and this time he said the spell word calm and clearly. He didn’t want to catch Malfoy unawares again.

He pushed gently against the fog. He wasn’t greeted by the white wall this time around and he grew immediately more cautious. Malfoy obviously knew that he was there, which meant that Harry would most likely stumble at whatever Malfoy wanted to conjure to him. Then he started seeing shapes. It didn’t matter where he looked, all the memories and thought had the same shape to them. He approached carefully, unravelling it slowly- He recognised Sirius and backed off immediately.

“No,” Harry said. “You wanted me to see Sirius dying.” It wasn’t a guess. He had sensed the viciousness of the conjured memory. It had existed only to make Harry upset, he was sure about it.

Malfoy looked at him without any ounce of regret. He was pure maliciousness. “You think you can take advantage of a weak moment without it ever getting back to you,” he said. His smile was a parody of a smile, cruel and cold.

“What is your problem?” Harry asked. He got up to his feet fast. This was about to turn nasty and he didn’t want to be his back against the door, without a way out.

“My problem is that I’m stuck here,” Malfoy said. He too got up to his feet. He had his wand in his hand, but he didn’t point it at Harry – not yet. “My home burned down and the next think I know, I'm locked ina creepy house with you of all people. I’m sure that you wouldn’t have a problem with any of that, what with you being so noble.”

“I’d hate it,” Harry said. “But I don’t get it. It felt like it was working. You didn’t seem this miserable for a few days.”

“Ah, but you already know what happened, don’t you?” Malfoy said. He laughed. There was an edge of hysteria to it. “Now there’s truly no way out.”

“You can always return to Hogwarts,” Harry said. Oddly, he felt a pang of disappointment. He’d failed Dumbledore’s request. That was it. Probably.

Malfoy shook his head. He was driven by a different sort of anger than before. Now he seemed to want to explain everything – it was like nothing mattered any longer. “And what happens after the summer, Potter? Am I to be alone for the rest of my life? By telling me that they cannot offer me any hospitality now, they mean that they do not want to be associated with a Malfoy any longer. My parents were strong, but our bloodline is tainted. The Blacks – what is left of them? My Aunt Bellatrix? Mad. The rest of the family are not even worth mentioning. And who do you think cast us out first? Who do you think started the fire?”

“Voldemort,” Harry said. “Your parents probably weren’t good enough Death Eaters.”

They looked at each other without daring to break the silence. Harry could hardly believe that they were talking about this. Since the battle at Department of Mysteries, Harry had known for certain that the Malfoys were allied with Voldemort. Now, he was talking about this with Draco Malfoy. A Malfoy had practically admitted to it – but not quite. Malfoy’s silence told much, but Harry realised that he hadn’t said a word to discriminate himself. It was almost impressive.

“So.. Uhm. What are you going to do now?” Harry asked.

“I’m going to survive,” Malfoy replied. This was the first time that he sounded completely honest. “A Malfoy will always survive. Obviously.”

Once again, Harry suddenly had a clear thought that he just knew he had to put into words. It felt silly that he hadn’t realised it before. Could all that Malfoy needed now be an honest invitation? “You can stay here. I mean, you wouldn’t be in the way if you continue teaching me,” he said. “I don’t even know why I’m saying this because it’ll just make you more insufferable, but you’ve actually been really helpful. And I am honestly grateful.”

Malfoy listened to him, to Harry’s great surprise. He looked like he'd been taken by surprise by Harry's suggestion. “How are you going to make others believe that allowing me to stay is a good idea?”

“I’ll sort it out,” Harry said confidently. Then he started seeing the glaring holes in this plan. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention our practising to anyone. They already think of me as completely mental for even talking to you.” Although Harry felt certain about making a case for allowing Malfoy to stay here for longer, he couldn’t shake off an odd unease about everything. How had he convinced both himself and Malfoy that having him stay here until no predetermined end might work? That was entirely different from the idea that Malfoy would leave in a couple of days. How would he even begin to explain this to everyone else?

Oblivious to Harry's internal struggle, Malfoy shrugged. Harry accepted that as agreement. Whatever it was that had just transpired, the moment had clearly ended.

xxx

When Remus arrived later that afternoon, he looked extremely weary, but seemed to be in one piece.

“How is Sirius?” Remus asked after he’d sat down. “I wish I could've come by and check up on him yesterday.”

“He’s dead tired”, Harry said. He regretted the choice of words as Remus’ expression turned grim.

Remus rubbed his temple and shook his head. “So am I”, he said then and smiled weakly. “So am I.”

“What happened yesterday?” Harry asked.

“Nothing more than one more proof of Death Eaters getting more brazen and dangerous. We are all in one piece,” Remus explained. “However, I’m not sure how often I can come by to teach you. I’m not saying that this isn’t important.”

“But there are other things that you need to do,” Harry finished for him. On some other day this might’ve made Harry angry, but this time he had a plan how to get over it. “Can we have one last session today? I’d like to prove you that I’ve gotten better. Good enough to be let to the meetings again.” He didn’t say it as a question, and Remus noticed his confidence.

“It’s not my decision, Harry”, Remus said.

“But you can persuade them. I know that they listen to you. You need everyone who can help you now, don’t you? I can keep Voldemort from hearing from our plans. I know I can. I won’t allow it to happen again.”

“We can work today, but not for too long. I haven’t had time to sleep properly since yesterday. I came here to help you with Sirius, and then I must be on my way again.”

Harry nodded firmly. He needed only one chance. It was odd. He hadn’t practised any occulemency with Malfoy, but he felt like he understood exactly what he was supposed to do. With a simple warning, Remus raised his wand and cast the spell. Harry immediately focused his energy to conjure an image of absolute emptiness in front of himself. Layer by layer he added more detail. It was not just empty, but void of warmth and sound and even air. Thinking about it became suffocating, but slowly he felt himself drift away from the image. The emptiness existed all around him, a vast field of nothing, and just like that he no longer needed to give his all to it anymore.

Harry realised that he could see Remus squinting his eyes at him, deep in focus. Harry looked at the man in front of him and wondered what he thought, suddenly certain that his own thoughts were safely protected, locked away so that Remus or no-one else could reach them. Remus… obviously struggled to break into Harry’s mind. Harry found himself smiling. He didn’t know what Malfoy did to brush Harry’s prying mind eye aside – Harry made a mental note to ask him about it next time – but even without it, he knew that he had succeeded in keeping his thoughts his own and intruders away.

Remus sighed. He lowered his wand and allowed the hand holding it to drop into his lap. “Impressive advancing”, he said. “How have you been practising?”

Harry didn’t immediately know what to say, but was almost certain that Remus didn’t notice his hesitation. “I read up on legilimency”, he then lied. “I think I understand the concept of the spells better now. It’s easier to focusing on countering one when you understand how the other works.”

“Clever thinking,” Remus praised.

“Do you think I can come to the meetings now?”

“It’s still not just my decision,” Remus said. Harry started fearing that this was still a no and the dread hit him like a heavy stone. What more could he do? He couldn’t stand the thought of being locked away all summer! Remus gave him a comforting smile. “But I will talk with them. We do need all the help we can get.”


	6. A Sunny Day and a Long Night

When he woke up, Harry felt better than he had in a long while. When he drew the curtains apart, he was greeted by a sunny summer day and he immediately thought about heading to the Burrow. This was a day when one should play Quidditch and he had more than earned the right to reward himself with one, enjoyable day. He took his broom with him when he walked downstairs. He left it leaning against the railing on the second-floor landing and then headed down to the cellar for a late breakfast.

Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Harry decided that it was most likely that Malfoy had gotten up early as usual and returned to his room or found somewhere else to hide. He was free to do what he wanted; oddly enough Harry felt that since he had personally offered Malfoy the right to stay, he was now truly a guest. An unexpected one for certain, but all things considered not an entirely unwelcome one anymore.

After eating, Harry went to see Sirius. Unsurprisingly, he was fast asleep. Because Harry had slept so late, he didn’t know if Sirius had been up long enough to find himself something to eat. Harry decided to make sure about that before leaving to the Burrow. Waking Sirius up wasn’t easy but after shaking him a while, Harry managed to make Sirius open his eyes. It took even longer before Sirius recognised where he was and who tried to talk to him.

“Harry?” he mumbled and tried to get himself in a more upright position. It looked like he didn’t have too much control over his limbs and after a while he gave up. “What is it?” he asked as he turned to his side, almost disappearing under the covers.

“I was thinking about going to the Burrow today,” Harry explained. “Will you be okay?”

“It sounds like a good idea,” Sirius replied, the words almost beaten by a yawn. “I’ll always have Malfoy to help me,” Sirius then said and managed a smiled. Harry smiled in return. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll probably end up sleeping through the day.” And true to his words, Sirius was asleep before Harry had left the room.

On his way down to the fireplace, Harry finally found Malfoy. Harry had just grabbed his broom from where he’d left it when he noticed Malfoy sitting by one of the windows of the living room with a book in his lap. He looked up as Harry entered the room, and then glanced at the broom. It was clearly a question.

“I’m going to play some Quidditch at the Burrow,” Harry explained. “Nobody should need me today, but if they ask you can always send them there.”

“I’m not your secretary, Potter,” Malfoy said and turned his attention back to his book demonstrating how little he cared.

Harry was in such a good mood that he didn’t even bother stopping to acknowledge this. He just turned around, walked down the stairs and straight into the kitchen and its fireplace, designated the Burrow as his destination and stepped through. Ginny was in the room as he stepped out from the fireplace. This time she just looked at him, looked at the broom and smiled widely.

Ron owled Hermione and told her to join them. It took her a few hours to arrive, but it was all worth it. They decided not to talk about the potion for Sirius (they were missing just one ingredient, but Hermione reassured them that it wouldn’t take too long and that they were close to having everything they needed) or the attacks (they were just as out of the loop as Harry) and just enjoy the day. They even managed to get Hermione in the air with them for a few minutes before she adamantly refused to keep playing with them when Fred and George joined them with their ‘improved’ bludgers.

Harry was bruised when he joined the others on the outdoor lunch that Mrs Weasley had prepared to them. Ginny was working on further improvements for the bludgers under the watchful and encouraging eyes of Fred and George. Harry was almost certain that even he would refuse to play if that bludger was allowed in. Fred had called it “affectionate”– it picked a player and followed them with a vengeance.

“It’s the perfect bludger to gift an ex,” George said, nudging Ginny. Ginny gave him a glare and kept casting new spells on the ball. It seemed to be picking up on speed as it fought against its chains.

Hermione was following the enhancing progress with both curiosity and disapproval. She kept muttering that the thing would kill someone soon. Ron was about to tell her to stop worrying once more when he saw something in the distance and stopped. “Is that Mum?” he asked. All the Weasleys turned to look.

“Sure looks like it,” Fred said. He quickly cast a spell to close the box where they kept the bludger. Ginny managed to get her fingers out of the way just in time.

“I wonder what she wants,” George said. He was getting up to his feet and Fred was right behind him. “She seems to be in a hurry.”

Harry too had turned to look and everything that the others had said seemed to be true. Mrs Weasley was walking across the field with brisk steps, determined look on her face. She walked right next to them and took a deep breath, just one, and then she had composed herself. She turned to look to Harry and Harry could immediately guess that something was wrong. “Harry, you should come with me,” Mrs Weasley said. She nodded towards the house. “I’m afraid that Sirius has taken a turn to the worse. I’ve already sent for Madam Pomfrey and Remus, but you should probably go back to Grimmauld Place.”

“We are coming with you,” Hermione said. She was up to her feet and there was no denying her this. Ron was also already on his way.

Harry didn’t know what to say, but to his relief nobody expected anything from him now. All of them left towards the Burrow, brooms and bludgers carried by Fred, George and Ginny. They entered through the kitchen door and Harry was almost running towards the fireplace when they came to a sudden stop. By the fireplace, in the living room of the Weasleys, stood Draco Malfoy. It was difficult to say who was most surprised: Malfoy who was suddenly met by the whole family, Harry who realised that Malfoy must’ve brought the message, or Weasley children who probably couldn’t have thought of a more uninvited guest.

A quick escape was the best solution for everyone. Malfoy was surprisingly composed, but he did look towards Harry as if to ask him to _do something right now._

“Why is he here?” Ron asked. It was not a question that needed an answer, though.

“The fireplace at the Grimmauld Place is connected here,” Hermione said. She was obviously dealing with the situation by taking comfort in logical thought.

“Now he knows about that!” Ron exclaimed with horror. The idea made Harry’s heart skip a beat too. This gateway to the Grimmauld place had been created for the comfort of him and the others. Now it was an obvious weakness. Would Malfoy ever think of invading the Grimmauld place, he could find the Burrow first. The Burrow was a lot easier to find - Grimmauld Place was covered in spells that made it very difficult to locate. Even Harry still found himself disoriented at the front steps from time to time. There was still the Fidelius Charm, but the simple idea of removing even some of the additional layers of protection made Harry unesy.

“Fred and George, you are going to stay here,” Mrs Weasley said ignoring the tenseness in the air. She walked to the fireplace and got a handful of floo powder which she quickly dealt to Hermione and Harry. “We need some peace and quiet to sort this situation out. Your father has gone to fetch Remus. You two get to keep the place up until we are back. Ginny, make sure that they don’t do anything stupid.”

Fred and George shared a look. They seemed to be okay with the instructions, and up to making sure that Malfoy would be gone from _their_ home as soon as possible. In unison, they crossed their arms and became an impassable wall at the kitchen door. Ginny was still holding the box with the angry bludger which decided to start making a ruckus at that exact moment almost like someone had ordered it to.

Harry looked at the grim faces. The situation would flare up at any moment, but nobody was saying anything. When Harry ended up looking at Hermione, she gave him a nod.

“We should go in pairs to be quicker,” she said. Not waiting for Ron to understand the instructions, she took hold of his hand and dragged him past Malfoy to the fireplace. They were gone in a flash of green. Harry decided that it was better to be on with it and walked to the fireplace, gave Malfoy one look, took a grip of his arm right above the elbow and half dragged, half pushed him with himself into the cloud of floo-powder. The twirling and stretching effect of the travelling through the floo-network felt worse than usual and Harry knew he was holding of Malfoy’s arm hard enough to bruise.

They stumbled out of the fireplace – Malfoy disentangled himself immediately without a word – and Harry hurried out of the kitchen, stepping into the hallway at the same moment as the front door opened and Mr Weasley and Remus stepped in. If they said anything in greeting, Harry didn't hear it. He'd caught the sight of Sirius half leaning, half just sprawled uncontrollably at the end of the stairs and could no longer hear or see anything else. Sirius was white as death. Harry had to fight the feeling of panic of taking over himself. Sirius couldn’t be dead. They’d hurried here to help him. They couldn’t be late. Sirius had been tired in the morning, but he'd been confident that Harry could be away a few hours...

Harry just stood still as Mrs Weasley rushed past him and kneeled onto the floor next to Sirius and took hold of his wrist. “There is a heartbeat,” she said over her shoulder. "We need to get him back to bed." Remus and Mr Weasley were immediately both by her, ready to help, but Mrs Weasley told Remus to wait for Pomfrey and levitated Sirius up the stairs together with her husband.

“What happened?” Remus asked. He turned to look to Harry and Harry felt helpless. He hadn’t been here. He didn’t know. He should never have left Sirius alone.

“He came down the stairs and just collapsed,” Malfoy said. The word were followed by a complete silence. “I couldn’t get him to wake up after that. I did a first aid spell, but all it told me was that I needed a medi-wizard.” Which is why he’d come to the Burrow, harry realised. Malfoy couldn’t have sent a distress signal from here – and must've been familiar enough with the kind of protective spells the house was covered in to know that nobody would’ve found their way here even if they’d tried. Harry was impressed of resourcefulness of Malfoy. He just hoped that it hadn’t taken him long to come up with that solution.

“When was this?” Remus asked.

“No more than five minutes ago,” Malfoy said. People turned their attention to the stairs again and Sirius who'd now been levitated allmost up to the first landing, but Harry had to look at Malfoy just a moment longer. Malfoy seemed relieved, and happy to disappear into the background again.

“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry turned his attention immediately to her. “He’ll be fine.”

It was at that moment that he realised that it most likely wouldn’t. Several capable wizards had worked restlessly to make Sirius better and still this had happened. He could just stare helplessly as Remus left to follow Mrs and Mrs Weasley up the stairs. Everyone looked grim. Hermione and Ron kept talking about something that Harry couldn’t hear any longer. This was not how it was supposed to end.

“I need to talk to Malfoy,” Harry said, clearly interrupting Ron. “I need to know what happened.”

“Do you think he did something?” Ron asked. He seemed alarmed by the abruptness of Harry’s words.

Harry thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. I just need to understand better what happened.” He took a step, and as Hermione and Ron started to follow, he stopped. It hurt him to say it, but he knew that he wouldn’t get a word out of Malfoy if he had his friends with him. “Alone.”

Ron argued against it, but Hermione took hold of his shoulder and made him quiet down. She didn’t understand him, Harry knew, but he appreciated her gesture. Hell, Harry didn’t understand himself why he’d acquired any kind of understanding for Malfoy. He walked up the stairs, forcibly not looking towards Sirius door that stood wide open. He knocked on Malfoy’s door and waited a moment without an answer. He then pushed it open, and closed it quickly behind himself. Malfoy looked like he’d expected him to show up, sitting on the windowsill this time, leaning to the wall with his feet raised up from the floor. He seemed curious about what Harry had to say, but there was a quiet withdrawnness to him.

“I. Uhm...” Harry started, unsure what he wanted to say. “Thank you for coming to the Burrow and telling us.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Malfoy said. “You’d just think I killed him otherwise.”

“That’s not true!” Harry said, and then he realised that Malfoy hadn’t been entirely serious. “Right. Thanks anyway. We are in your debt.”

“Contrary to common belief, I don’t especially enjoy seeing people die,” Malfoy said.

“Is there anything more you can tell about what happened?” Harry asked.

Malfoy shook his head. “I did try to help him, but I don’t know any advanced healing spells. The first aid spell did think it was something very serious. Something that needs immediate treatment. I thought it was better if I didn’t try for longer and came to get you.”

“It was clever of you to come to the Burrow,” Harry said. “How did Mrs Weasley take it that you showed up in their living room?”

Malfoy shrugged. “She listened what I had to say.” There was something that he left untold, but Harry was sure that he’d get the complete story from her if he asked. However, this was not the time for that story.

“I need to go see if they need any help,” Harry said. “I just wanted to say that I appreciate what you did.”

Malfoy didn’t say anything. Harry turned around and left the room. This time he headed towards Sirius' room and found Ron and Hermione sitting at the stairs. The door still stood open and one glance to the room told him the Madam Pomfrey had arrived and that she was casting a spell that was taking all her focus. It was too quiet in the room, everybody just staring at either Sirius or the faint glow that was now surrounding him. Harry had to look away.

Sirius was still alive when they gathered around the kitchen table. Mr and Mrs Weasley had returned home on the request of Remus – he’d thanked them firmly when they’d offered to stay and then made it clear that what they all really needed was some rest. Remus had tried to send Hermione and Ron away as well, but after he’d changed looks with Harry, he’d decided against it. Harry wasn’t sure what Remus had seen that had made him allow them to stay, Harry hadn’t even thought about fighting to have his friends close. He’d been too tired to think. Harry couldn’t even look at the worried faces anymore and so he ended up staring his hands that were still covered in dirt from their time playing Quiddish out on the field. Somewhere out there was a warm and beautiful summer evening. Inside, everything seemed to be in deep shadow. At some point, Harry realised that people were talking again.

“How long will the stabilisation spell work?” Remus was asking. The words were quiet, every ounce of his energy already spent on the spell that had been cast on Sirius today.

Harry glanced up just in time to see Madam Pomfrey shook her head. She didn’t want to answer. Maybe she didn’t even know.

“We need to find out what the problem is,” Remus said. He held his head in his hands and was looking the most beaten of them all. Harry found himself wondering how much Remus had had time to sleep lately.

Nobody said anything for a moment and Harry stared the air without seeing anything. Hermione touched his arm and gave him a look that seemed to ask him – should we tell about our plan? – but he couldn’t tell her either way. It was a silly thing to put any hope on. Harry didn’t want to give Remus any false hope that would make him any more miserable.

“We have a few days at most,” Madam Pomfrey said. This made Remus look up. There hadn’t been any hesitation to her words. “We cannot keep recasting the stabilisation spell for much longer. Soon enough no healer has the strength to pull him back.”

“There’s nothing else?” Remus asked, but it was obvious that he didn’t need to hear the answer. There was nothing to say. The grim silence was too heavy for Remus now. He pushed himself up. “I’m going to go and watch him sleep. Just in case there’s a change.” It was an excuse to get out of the situation, but nobody protested. Remus didn’t look at any of them before he was on his way.

Madam Pomfrey rose to her feet. She looked at each of them and tried to give a reassuring aura. It felt just as hollow as everything else and Harry did appreciate it, but at the same time he was relieved when she informed them that she would need to go.

Then it was just the three of them standing in the kitchen.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Ron. Ron gave him a short, comforting smile. “We’ll still have time,” he said. Harry nodded. This was not how it would end.

“What are we going to do?” Hermione asked. “We can start brewing the potion now. Give me an hour and I’ll get us Remember-Me-Nots. Somehow.” She did manage to sound confident about her chances of finding the missing ingredient. But that wasn’t their only problem.

“But what good can it do?” Ron asked. “Sirius is out cold. He won’t be able to tell us what he saw even if the potion worked.”

“He might wake up,” Harry said. “It’s worth trying to do something. I say we try the potion. We have nothing else.” He looked at Hermione and then to Ron and both nodded firmly.

“So, any ideas about the plant?” Ron asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but shook her head then. She looked away in anger. She had wanted to be the one to give them the solution. It was unfair, but they’d depended on her as usual.

It was something in the way that she drew her mouth into a thin line that got Harry suddenly thinking. It was madness, and it made sense. “I can ask Malfoy.”

“Harry, why do you think he could help us?” Hermione asked. She wasn’t outright denying the possibility, Harry knew from the barely confined hope that had gotten to her voice.

“He’s a Malfoy. They probably have access to many rare ingredients. Didn’t you say the flowers were used in all sorts of memory altering potions? That means they are regulated by the Ministry, so wouldn’t it make sense that they’d have a private supply?” Harry explained. He didn’t know why he had such trust to this alternative, but he was surer with every word.

Hermione could also see the logic. “But there’s one problem. The Manor burned down,” she said.

“I-“ Harry started and then swallowed. It was a weird thing to forget. “There could still be something left. We should at least find out that.”

“If Malfoy agrees to help,” Ron said. “How are you planning to get there? Flying there would take half the night. It’s not really worth it in my opinion.”

Harry smiled. “I am confident that he’ll agree to help us. And I think I have a solution to the travelling problem as well.” He was halfway up the stairs before he had any idea how to explain any of this to Malfoy. He wasn’t even sure why he’d felt so certain about this for a moment, and now he was on the move and couldn’t stop.

He didn’t knock, and stepped into Malfoy’s room with odd familiarity. “I need your help,” Harry said.

“With what this time?” Malfoy asked. He was still sitting by the window, and to Harry’s relief, didn’t seem to be all that cross about the unexpected visit.

“We are making a potion to Sirius,” Harry said. “We have everything else, but we need Remember-Me-Nots.”

“And why would I have them?” Malfoy asked, clearly suspicios.

Harry explained his reasoning, and Malfoy looked at him calmly a moment before saying exactly the same thing as Ron: “The Malfoy Manor burned down.”

“I know,” Harry said. “But a part of it is still standing. I was hoping that we might get lucky.”

“If we’d had a secret storage of some extremely controlled ingredients, if I’d let you have any of them and if we’d manage to get there, the chance that nobody has gotten to them before us is small.”

“We need to try,” Harry said. He knew that he’d let his desperation through to his voice when Malfoy suddenly became more attentive of him. “We have a way there. You mentioned you carry a portkey with you. And even if we don’t find anything, I’d be in your debt. Truly.”

Malfoy jumped down from the window sill and took his wand out. Harry was for a moment uncertain what Malfoy was planning, but when he sent the book that he’d had with him to the night table, Harry couldn’t help a smile spreading on his face. Malfoy stopped a step from Harry and looked at him with a self-satisfied smirk. “You do owe me two favours after this,” he said and then managed to sidestep Harry and reach for the door. He had his hand on the doorknob when he said, “Come on then, Potter.”

Malfoy led the way down the stairs, but he paused when he noticed Ron and Hermione. They too seemed surprised to come face to face with Malfoy again.

“He agreed then,” Hermione said. She and Malfoy exchanged surprisingly civil looks.

“I don’t know if there’s anything left,” Malfoy said. He sounded completely professional.

“Do you know how they look like?” Hermione asked. She too was speaking with her professional tone that she loved to use to lecture with. It was odd, Harry thought. Although you could sense the underlying animosity just waiting for an opportunity, everything was going well.

"I do," Malfoy said.

They walked out from the front door, Malfoy first and Harry only a step after him. Ron stopped Harry right before he was about to take the step over the threshold. “Watch you back,” he said.

Harry didn’t argue, just nodded shortly. “You two go get the rest of the ingredients. And find us a cauldron as well. And whatever else you need. Hermione knows.”

Malfoy looked impatient when Harry joined him down on the street. It was quiet. “I don’t know what I thought when agreeing,” Malfoy grumbled, but offered his hand. “Hold tight.” The pull of the portkey was immediate after Harry had placed his hand in Malfoy’s. It was as the world twisted and turned that Harry realised for the first time that this portkey might not lead them where Malfoy had said. Maybe this had been just an elaborate trap-

And they stumbled onto the lawn outside of the ruins of the Malfoy Manor. Or to be more exact, Harry stumbled over his feet and Malfoy managed to fix his balance with a single step.

“Didn’t think I would be back here so soon,” Malfoy said to no-one in particular. He was looking towards the blackened ruins, but Harry couldn’t see his expression from where he was standing. Harry took his time to observe the ruins too. He’d seen the picture in the Prophet, of course, but the picture hadn’t told more than a fraction of the truth. It had been almost two weeks from the fire, and the air was now clear of any smell of ash and burnt material. The ruins of the manor were also larger than he’d expected, controlling the whole landscape. The brick walls that marked the boundaries of the garden were still standing intact and it was too easy to imagine the place as it should’ve been. Everything looked wrong and distorted.

“I can only imagine how you feel,” Harry said. He couldn’t even start to imagine how he’d feel if the Burrow or the Grimmauld Place would turn into a pile of ash and charred beams like this.

“It’s not important,” Malfoy said. He started walking towards it all without turning to look at Harry. Harry was quick to follow. They walked straight past what would’ve been the main entrance – a piece of a large door had survived the fire and was still half attacked to a piece of wall. Malfoy didn’t spare a second glance to the sight that must’ve been a cruel parody of something so very familiar.

It wasn’t difficult to sense that this was no time to ask questions about Malfoy’s feelings or memories. They were here on a mission, and Malfoy was intent on completing it. “Where could there be potion ingredients?” Harry asked. He looked closer at the ruins, seeing outlines of rooms and fragments of furniture. Part of the second floor had survived, but the stairs had collapsed. It didn’t look like there was an easy way up there now.

“We don’t need to go up,” Malfoy said. He was staring at the second floor and he looked so alone that Harry almost reached to touch him. “Nothing but bedrooms up there,” he added. The words were not even close to what he was thinking as his voice came close to breaking before he turned away and started heading to a direction with a furious determination. Harry followed him, hating himself for not knowing what to do. He shouldn’t have forced Malfoy to come here. It was obviously painful.

Malfoy kept walking until they’d made it past the building onto the backyard where they were met by a garden. The last of the day’s sun was shining and it was getting dark, fast. Harry felt unwelcome here even though he could see that the garden had been left unmarred by the fire and was carefully designed and beautifully cared for. “So where will we find the-?” Harry turned to ask Malfoy. He couldn’t see any buildings in front of them nor anything on this side of the Manor itself that would’ve looked like a place to store potion ingredients.

“Out there,” Malfoy said and nodded towards the garden. “There’s no point in trying to store remember-me-nots. Their wither and lose what makes them valuable in the first place in just few days,” he then added in a tone that made it clear to Harry that he _should have_ known that.

“Show the way then,” Harry muttered.

Malfoy did lead the way into the garden. He walked the paths with a familiarity that should’ve been comforting, but Harry couldn’t shake of the feeling that they were being watched. He couldn’t see anything, but he had to twist his head and glance behind them occasionally. The manor was nothing but an empty shell but it still managed to feel sinister. Harry’s attention had been so focused on the shadows all around them that he was startled when Malfoy stopped by a little pond. There was no need to point out where the remember-me-nots could be found. Growing in a uneven blanket of little, shining stars, they had gathered around a big tree that leaned over the pond, the little flowers peaking from between the roots and hidden away in nooks.

“Odd name for a memorable flower like this,” Harry said as he leaned in closer. “I’ve never seen these. Do they grow just about anywhere?”

“They don’t. And don’t touch them,” Malfoy said. Harry had just reached out and quickly withdrew his hand.

“They are covered in amnesiac oils. Touch them with you bare hands and you’ll never find the grove where they grow again. Still, they are very useful in memory altering potions,” Malfoy said. He picked a handkerchief from his pocket and with the help of it picked a small bucket of the flowers. They shone as bright enveloped in the fabric as they’d shone on the ground. Harry had a hard time to look away. The flowers were almost colourless in this light, but they _did_ look like the picture Hermione had shown them. In the deepening darkness, the flowers kept somehow turning brighter the longer one looked at them. Their beauty was mesmerizing. Wasn’t it one of nature’s greatest ironies if one would forget these flowers the moment one touched them?

Finding the flowers here had been a mad thing to hope for, really. Harry didn’t doubt that Malfoy Manor contained hundreds of highly illegal substances, but to find the one ingredient that they were looking for should’ve been hopeless. This was more than Harry could’ve hoped for. He should not be wasting time second guessing what he was doing, and yet, he couldn’t just let go. “How come they grow here?”

Malfoy didn’t answer. He held the flowers, still wrapped in the handkerchief, in his hands and stared at them with an odd fascination. He pulled on of the corners back and for a moment his fingers hovered in the air just above the flowers before he pulled back and his hand closed into a first. Malfoy turned quickly to look at Harry and then shrugged as if he’d just then heard Harry’s question. "Mother had them planted a few years back," he said. He gently closed his hand around the envelope with the flowers in it and turned to get away from there.

Harry hesitated and Malfoy turned around to see what was taking Harry so long. If he'd a moment ago been more than willing to trade in favours with Harry by bringing him here, Malfoy obvisouly wanted to get away now. It was painfully clear to Harry that it had been a mistake to force Malfoy come here. “Are you okay, Malfoy?” he asked.

“It’s none your business,” Malfoy replied. For a moment it looked like he would crush the flowers in his fist, but the moment passed and Malfoy carefully placed the flowers into his pocket. "Let's just go."

Harry became very conscious about the silence they were surrounded by. There was no light to be seen in the horizon now that the sun had set. The red had given way to a cool shade of lilac and the air was turning colder. It felt like a violation to breathe. With effort, Harry took the first step to follow Malfoy. He turned to look at the manor now in front of them again, staring at its ragged silhouette. They needed to return. He wanted away from here and yet he felt like he was missing something important.

“What are you staring?” Malfoy asked.

Harry thought about it and finally figured it out. “How come nobody has come here since the fire? There’s plenty of valuable things here. These flowers, for example.” It had felt like they weren’t alone, but the truly odd thing was that they _were_. No-one had ambushed them. No-one had touched these flowers that Hermione had called very rare and valuable and that were here just out in the open.

“There are protection spells,” Malfoy said, his voice now quieter. “They are still working. They keep uninvited guests outside a certain perimeter and yes, I did invite you. I’m not even surprised that the mudbloods and idiots you spend your time with don’t know how to do the simplest protection spells. Even a child knows how to protect their home.”

“There’s no reason to insult me,” Harry said. He felt no reason to rise to Malfoy’s taunt. “They probably have all sorts of spells in place. I’ve never asked.” A moment passed without a reply. “What’s wrong, Malfoy?”

This got Malfoy to spun around and face Harry head on. “What do you think, Potter?” he snapped. “This used to be my home. Now its dust and everything is gone. It’s hardly like I can rebuild it. There’s just nothing left.”

“I know,” Harry said weakly. He was a step closer without thinking it. He could’ve reached to touch Malfoy by now. “I’m sorry I brought you here.”

“What do you care?” Malfoy said. “I’ve told you before. I don’t need your saving! I don’t need anything from _you_!” The words had a desperate edge to them. Malfoy was absolutely disgusted by the fact that Harry Potter was trying to console him.

And Harry couldn’t care less. “I know that I can’t possibly understand what this feels like,” Harry said. He didn’t need to make a move to make it clear that he was talking about the destruction he was surrounded by. “I haven’t even seen my parent’s home after it was destroyed by Voldemort.”

“It’s completely different,” Malfoy said. “You didn’t even know that place.”

“No, I didn’t. I know that. But I have lost so much in my life. I know what it feels like to feel alone and scared of what the future will look like. Sirius is like a parent to me and he is dying,” Harry said. He felt naked by revealing this much, but there was no other way that he could think of to make Malfoy trust in him. “I know we are not friends, but I still don’t want you to be alone.”

“That’s so noble of you, preaching forgiveness. I don’t need it, Potter!”

“I’m not planning to forget what you’ve done through the years,” Potter retorted. “I’m sorry I’m not as much of a jerk that you are.  I don’t leave people in the middle of the ruins of their lives. I brought you here. It’s my fault that you are this miserable.”

“Then let’s leave!” Malfoy said. He reached out and took hold of Harry’s wrist. Harry yelped in surprise. Malfoy didn’t give him time to struggle loose before reaching for the portkey and making the world turn into twists and knots.

They appeared in front of the Grimmauld Place and the first thing Harry did was to stumble over his feet and fall without any dignity on his arse. Malfoy didn’t stay to help him up; He dropped the parcel of remember-me-nots on the street in front of Harry and was through the door before Harry had untangled himself. He was scrambling up to his feet when Ron appeared to the door and looked at him worriedly.

“What happened?” Ron asked.

“I’m fine,” Harry said predicting the next question. “It was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have made Malfoy go back there.”

Ron's face fell. “So you didn’t find the flowers?”

“No, I think we found it. There were plenty of them,” Harry said. He picked carefully the still glowing package up. It had survived without any damage from this ordeal. He handed it to Ron. “Give it to Hermione. Start with the potion. I need to talk to Malfoy.” He didn’t want to stay here long enough to hear Ron question if going after a furious Malfoy was the wise thing to do. It was the right thing to do. Harry pushed his way past Ron inside and hurried up the stairs without any uncertainty as to where he’d find Malfoy.

Malfoy’s door was locked, but it was easy enough to spell it open. Harry knew this time to anticipate some sort of hex immediately when entering and had his wand out to deflect it. Whatever it had been hit the bookshelf somewhere to the left of Harry and a few of the books fell to the floor. Malfoy looked surprised by the fact that he hadn’t hit Harry, and then angry. So very angry.

“We need to talk,” Harry said. He trusted that his quick entrance had bought him a few seconds before Malfoy would’ve figured out a second hex and he used the time to lock the door. Harry didn’t need anyone barging in now. He could handle Malfoy.

“We don’t,” Malfoy snarled. “You are free to feel sorry somewhere else. I don’t want you here.”

“You don’t get a choice in that matter,” Harry replied firmly. Malfoy was glaring at him. Harry took advantage of the situation and called, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

However, Malfoy was on the edge and had his reflexes to him. He managed to evade the curse. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to get any angrier at the fact that Harry had tried to cast a spell on him. A mean smile found itself to his face. “My, my… Afraid, Potter?”

“Not especially,” Harry replied. They were sizing each other now. There was not really space in the room to prowl, but they would’ve done that if they’d could. This was where they always ended. Maybe this was the only thing they really could have. There was just too much anger and friction between the two of them. It didn’t matter if Harry wanted to help or if he just wanted to ignore Malfoy. Here they were, wands out and ready to fight it out.

Malfoy held his wand in his hand casually, allowing it to point at Harry almost lazily. “Where are we going from here?” Malfoy asked. Maybe he had even thought of the same things that had passed Harry’s mind just before. “I helped you out. What more do you want from me?”

“I saw how going there affected you. Don’t argue, Malfoy. I know what I saw,” Harry said. Malfoy gave him a glare followed by silence. “I want to help you. Honestly.”

“There’s nothing you can do, _Potter_ ,” Malfoy replied. He didn’t lower his wand, but didn’t make a move to cast a spell either. Harry took a step closer, watched that wand closely and since Malfoy seemed to still be frozen, he walked closer. Malfoy looked at him, his eyes cold, wary. He was tense and ready to bolt. It was madness, Harry thought. He was pushing himself too close, making himself get mixed up in something that was none of his business. And then again, he was at least partly at fault. “What are you doing?” Malfoy asked. His voice had gotten a new edge to it that didn’t go unnoticed by Harry.

“Are you going to hex me for trying to help you?” Harry asked. He half expected Malfoy to do it.

“Are you mad?” Malfoy snapped. “The house is filled with your friends. If they happen to walk in and find you unconscious they’ll lynch me!”

“Then talk to me,” Harry pressured. “It’s obvious that I made a mistake by forcing you to go back there. I’m sorry. I want to make it up to you.”

“You didn’t force me there,” Malfoy said.

“You wouldn’t have gone there without me,” Harry argued.

“Not everything is about you, Potter,” Malfoy said.

“What other reason would you have had to go there then? To go fetch something that I needed?”

“It was about me,” Malfoy said. He found an energy from within himself. He straightened his back and grew to his full length. He was taller than Harry, Harry realised as they now stood face to face, and Harry felt a need to take a step back. “It was about me, Potter. I wanted to see the place so that I wouldn’t have to live with dream images any longer. I wanted to see if there was something to be salvaged, but you saw how it was. Only the impersonal things were properly protected against fire and other magic.”

“I didn’t even realise,” Harry said and felt almost relieved. Words were good. “I’ve never had much to call my own, but losing that much must be awful.”

“The Chosen One of the wizarding world wasn’t drown in gifts? Ha, hard to believe. You got a new broom and made a thing about making sure everybody knew you hadn’t asked for it. You had always money to buy whatever you wanted with.”

“I didn’t. Sirius gave the broom to me,” Harry said. The thought of Sirius made him draw back a bit. He didn’t want to waste time here. He should be down there with Hermione and Ron, working with their mad solution. “Malfoy, you are trying to change the subject.”

Malfoy glared at him. “Do you honestly think that there is a solution, Potter? Solution that can fix me?” he said. “I want you to be in debt for me and that’s all. I’m happy with that.”

“I’m not.”

“This is not about what you want anymore. I gave you what you wanted already, don’t you remember?” Malfoy said.

“I know,” Harry said. “I just don’t like this. I don’t just want to trade debts. I don’t do that. I don’t want you to be unhappy.” Harry bit his lip. He had sounded too sincere, Malfoy was bound to lash out.

“I recall that we’ve gone through this before, Potter,” Malfoy said slowly. He was calm, but there was something unsettling. Something that could’ve been weakness and uncertainty in anyone but Malfoy - Malfoy would not be caught dead displaying either. “Neither of us wants to be friends with the other. It’s better for everyone to stop worrying about things you have no right to worry about.”

“I don’t like you,” Harry said. It sounded almost petty.

Malfoy chuckled. “The feeling is mutual. Scatter off now. You have something to do. What did you need the flower for anyway?”

Nothing had really been resolved, but there had been some progress. This was something different than the heavy, weighing anger that had swallowed Malfoy for a moment. Harry didn’t know what he had done, but he felt like he had done something right. “We are making a potion for Sirius. The details will just-“ _Bore you._ Malfoy was good with potions, wasn’t he? “Hermione had this idea of making Sirius remember what the spell that was cast on him was. We might find the counter-curse if we knew what we were fighting against.”

Malfoy thought a moment, clearly going through potions that used the flower and had the desired effect. “ _Memoria lucidus_ -potion? That is certainly a new kind of way of battling a fast moving, deadly poisoning,” Malfoy said after a while. Harry was unsure if Malfoy was mocking them or if he was impressed. “It won’t help you much if Black isn’t lucid, you know. It doesn’t do more than make them have a better clarity over their memories,” Malfoy said.

“We know,” Harry admitted. “We will think around the problem once we have the potion ready.”

“Have you thought about using legilimency?” Malfoy asked without hesitation.

Harry stopped, refusal already on his lips. “You can do that?”

Malfoy looked at Harry like he was an idiot. He was probably being one, truly. “He is weak now. He probably won’t have the mental energy to keep many walls up. If you give him the potion, he will have clearer memories and someone using legilimency can read them with the same clarity as he presents them.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. That could be the answer. It really could be. “I’m really in your debt,” Harry finally muttered. “As long as the way you want me to repay doesn’t include dark magic or hurting people, I am willing to do it.”

Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. Harry knew he had promised much, probably too much, and to Malfoy of all people. But if this could save Sirius - it wasn’t a question. “Go and save him then, Potter,” Malfoy said and shooed with his hand, lazily and elegantly. Harry took his cue this time.

He walked the stairs down with two steps at a time. Hermione turned away from the cauldron at the kitchen table to look at him. She tilted her head. Harry joined her at the cauldron before saying anything. “Mal-“, he started, but swallowed the word before it had fully formed. They might not buy the idea if he presented it in the wrong light. There was something deeply unsettling about legilimency, and something suspicious about it being Malfoy who’d suggested the solution. “I think I have a solution to the problem how to use the potion despite Sirius being deep asleep. Remus can use legilimency to find out the right memory and tell us the answer.” The words came fast, exited as he was. Hermione and Ron needed a moment to digest them.

“That could work,” Hermione said. She had not yet fully embraced the idea as Harry had, but was ready to give it the benefit of the doubt.

“That is brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “You are a genius, Harry.” He clasped Harry’s back as a friendly gesture of support. Harry smiled back, but felt a bit hollow behind the smile. It hadn’t been his idea, but for the moment it would have to be.

“How long will the potion take to brew?” Harry asked. “I think we should fill Remus in on the plan now.”

They made sure that the potion was boiling calmly in the cauldron before the three of the carefully approached Sirius’ room. Remus was sitting by the bedside, half a sleep judging from the way he was half resting on the bed, head hidden in his arms. He was sleeping lightly, though, and was immediately alert when Harry took a step to approach him. It took a moment for him to focus on the surroundings and see them at the door. Harry lured Remus away from Sirius and brought him with them to kitchen for a calming tea and more comfortable environment to go through the plan.

Remus nodded as the three of them explained what they’d been up to. Harry left out his quick adventure to the ruins of Malfoy Manor. Remus suspected that something unwise had been done when they mentioned the ingredients they’d neede. Many of the herbs that the potion was based on were easy to find, but remember-me-not’s did not grow in most magical gardens – the potion wasn’t a common one for a reason. Hermione would’ve gladly have been using it to help her study if she’d had access to it before.

When Harry came to the part that needed participation from Remus, the man nodded slower. “I am not sure I am good enough,” Remus said. “I am willing to try, of course.”

Harry thought for a moment of volunteering himself, but held himself back. As far as everyone around this table was concerned, Harry didn’t know anything about legilimency. He probably wasn’t all that good, either, having managed to read something once or twice when allowed to. That wasn’t enough to make him sure about his skills. Would he be able to find one specific memory? He'd never even tried.

“I think you should try to get some proper sleep while we wait for the potion,” Hermione said to Remus. It looked almost like Remus would argue against the suggestion, but the weariness won and he agreed. With Remus sleeping on the couch, the potion slowly bubbling in the cauldron the house was once again filled by an uneasy calm. Nobody spoke, but time passed slowly.


	7. Spilling secrets

Harry had dozed of just for a moment at some point for he was startled when Ron shook him awake. The clock showed the early hours of the new day.  There was no need to say that it was time to try the potion. Hermione had already moved it from the cauldron into a glass vial. The potion had a soft blue shade to it and almost milky consistency. It moved around in the vial on its own and it reminded Harry of memories extracted into a pensive. Maybe there was something milky like for the substance of memories itself. That would explain why all memory potions shared the look.

They gathered in Sirius’ room and Remus took his place at the side of the bed again. Sirius was far away, not waking to any of their attempts to rouse him up. Even a wake-up spell couldn’t get more than a grunt out of him. They shared a worried look but didn’t stop. Remus kept the vial to Sirius’ lips while keeping him upright with his other hand. It was difficult and some of the potion was spilled, but Sirius did swallow enough of the potion to make them hopeful.

“How long do we wait?” Ron asked. He was looking at Hermione for answer.

“Not long,” she replied without taking her eyes from Sirius. “We could probably already try using the legilimency.”

Remus took hold of Sirius hand and closed his eyes. It was impossible to say how he was doing before he opened his eyes and shook his head in frustration. “It is working,” Remus said. “I can feel things clearing up, but I just can’t get a hold of anything.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’ll try again.” And he did. Remus tried again and again, but couldn’t find them the answer. It was obvious that he was making less and less progress after a while as desperation made it hard for him to keep his calm and focus.

“How long before the potion stops working?” Remus asked after he’d taken a moment to rest once again. He was keeping his forehead like he had a headache.

“Maybe an hour,” Hermione said. “It’s only meant to enhance your memories for a short while. It would be too overwhelming otherwise.”

“And you tell us that now?” Ron asked.

“It’s not like we have too much time anyway!” Hermione snapped. “I didn’t think it mattered. We either find the answer now of we don’t.”

“We need to find someone who is better at legilimency than me,” Remus said. He’d spoken quietly, but his words were enough to silence Hermione and Ron immediately.

Harry could only think of one thing and he didn’t want it to be the solution. He didn’t want to let anyone who he didn’t trust completely close to Sirius. They were already violating Sirius’ privacy by entering his mind without asking his permission first, but it wasn’t that bad as long as it was Remus. Sirius trusted Remus. Sirius would never agree to- No, that wasn’t an option. “Let me try,” Harry said.

Everybody turned to look at Harry with surprise. Remus knew he’d studied on Leglimency, but he wouldn’t have any idea that he had some practical knowledge of it. Hermione and Ron knew nothing – Harry had really left them in the dark this summer and he had to look away in shame. Time for explanations would be later.

Harry brushed aside the questions and took Remus’ place by the bedside. He looked at Sirius and saw the greyness of his skin and the thinness that was completely new to him. Harry kept his eyes open as he whispered, “ _Legilimens_.” He felt a wave of relief pass through him as he entered the sea of memories. There was a different kind of clarity to the memories that even he could pick up despite his limited experience. The potion seemed to have added a glowing aura around individual memories, making it easier to separate them from each other. Harry could almost imagine the rustling of wind in his ears as he moved through the forest of memories. They grew all around him, disorganised as they moved in Sirius’ sleeping consciousness with no guideposts or signs telling Harry where he’d find the thought he was looking for. Things flickered around him. He moved through days at the Grimmauld place, and then-

The Department of Mysteries surrounded him. He looked around franticly. It was a fight and wherever he – Sirius? – was watching there was movement and spells and screams and chaos. His heart was beating more franticly. Adrenaline pumping in his veins made him run faster. There were so many people he needed to save. He twirled around. Something had alerted him, a sound had pierced through the noise of the room. He stared at the light that was traveling towards him and then felt it pierce every inch of his body. He staggered a little, but stayed upright. He felt confused, and then the heart of the pain hit him. It was painful. So painful! He couldn’t see straight-

Harry was rudely cast of the memory. Ron was holding a hand on his shoulder, looking at him worry in his eyes. “Harry,” he said.

Harry blinked. He had tears in his eyes which he wiped away as discretely as he could. It was of no use, of courses, they’d already seen that he’d gotten too deep. “I found the memory,” Harry said. Remus looked at him most curious of them all. Ron was mostly elated that Harry had made progress. Hermione knew that this wasn’t all there was to it. “I couldn’t hear the curse. I could feel it. I- I couldn’t get an outsider perspective to it. I was too close.”

Ron and Hermione who’d not worked with legilimency or occulemency just looked unsure. Remus on the other hand, seemed to get thoughtful at the confession. “Legilimency can be done with emotion,” Remus explained. “And there is then the risk that you cannot tell yourself apart from the person whose memories you are entering.”

“It hasn’t happened before,” Harry said. He'd always been able to ultimately tell that he wasn't really part of what the memory was showing when Malfoy had tried to trick him.

Hermione was the fastest to notice what Harry had unthinkingly let slip. “Who have you been practising with?”

There was no way to lie out of this. Harry decided to take the fast and painful way out: Give the truth without anything softening the blow. “Malfoy has been teaching me.”

“Malfoy?” Ron exclaimed.

Remus didn’t say anything, but looked at Harry sternly. 

Hermione was left speechless. She opened her mouth, then decided not to tell what she’d been thinking. Oh, she would certainly let Harry know that some point sooner or later. Harry knew well enough that he had not been thinking it through.

“I needed to learn occulemancy. Fast. We couldn’t risk letting Voldemort into my mind again,” Harry explained even though no-one had yet demanded an explanation from him.

“But you allowed Malfoy into your mind,” Ron said. He sounded unbelieving and hurt at the same time.

“No- That’s why we were practising legilimency. Because I wouldn’t allow him to use legilimency on me,” Harry said. It was a thin excuse that didn’t give him too much protection in the daylight as it had done in the shadowy rooms they’d been practising. “He’s been pretty good teacher,” Harry added silently.

“I can’t argue with the results,” Remus said. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier.”

“So that you could’ve kept me outside the meetings for even longer? I don’t want to be useless to the Order. You wouldn’t give me a chance.”

“Harry, we needed to be careful. Death Eaters have been active now and you are just children. You shouldn’t even know about these things. And since people in our protection got attacked at St Mungo, we cannot take risks.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. Then he needed to shake his head. “No. Forget I asked. We need to focus on Sirius. We need to know what the curse was to find the counter-spell.”

“Harry is right,” Hermione said. “Can you try again? You were doing good.”

Harry looked at Sirius. He could try again, but the memory had swallowed him so completely that he didn’t know how to distance himself from it. He looked back at Ron, Hermione and Remus. “Malfoy is better at this than me. And he is better than Remus.”

Nobody said no outright, but they were all thinking it, Harry included. It was madness.

“We must know someone who is good at legilimency,” Ron said.

“Who could we find now and get here immediately?” Hermione asked.

They turned to look Remus for answer, but Remus was looking at Sirius. He took a moment before he faced their looks. “Can we trust him enough?” Remus asked Harry.

“Probably not,” Harry replied truthfully. “But he has been awfully helpful lately. He has!” Harry said as Ron and Hermione looked at him questioningly. “He has really helped me with occulemency without trying to get any information out of me. He found of the flowers, which was why we could try this in the first place.” Since he’d admitted to all the other secrets he’d held already, Harry felt like one more wouldn’t hurt. “He was the one who came up with the idea of using legilimency.”

“I’m not that surprised,” Hermione said. “Is there any way that he could’ve foreseen that we might ask him to help us with that?”

If Malfoy could’ve planned to use this for his advantage? “No,” Harry said. “He is not that devious.”

The looked at each other in silence. Nobody seemed to believe that they were actually agreeing on this, Remus least of them all. But nobody said no. Harry got up and left the room. He was not going to give up on Sirius even if it meant asking Malfoy for help again and again. Harry would have a hell of a debt to pay.

If Malfoy had been sleeping, he was an even more paranoid than Remus. When Harry closed the door after himself, Malfoy was already sitting on his bed, knees drawn up, hand on his wand next to him on the bed, fully visible, pointedly so. He did not look at all surprised to see Harry entered the room. “This is many social calls in a day, Potter,” he said. He had clearly calmed down from earlier.

“I need your help again,” Harry said, cutting to the chase. “I couldn’t do the legiliemency. Neither could Remus.”

The implied question hit home immediately. If Malfoy was faking his surprise at being asked, he deserved this victory. “Really?”

“You can gloat afterwards and I promise to listen to it all,” Harry said. “Will you help us?”

“You’d really allow me to-“

“Yes, Malfoy. We can all regret this later. Please. The potion won’t help clarify the memories for much longer.”

“Fine,” Malfoy said. He took his wand and walked to the door. He picked up his robe along the way and drew it on effortlessly.

Harry led them to Sirius’ room without a word. Hermione, Ron and Remus looked at Malfoy with half concealed hostility mixed with curiosity. Nobody knew what they were doing here, but Harry didn’t allow that to slow them down. Malfoy walked to the bedside looking back with the same amount of hostility and mistrust. He stopped by the night table where he stared down at Sirius. He turned to look at Harry, and only Harry. Harry nodded. Malfoy sat down.

“ _Legilimens_ , _”_ Malfoy said. The words were clear and so distinctly said in Malfoy’s voice that Harry was unsure if he was just dreaming. The dream just continued as everyone seemed to stop breathing as they watched Malfoy sit by Sirius, frozen in time. Whereas Remus had displayed his fatigue, Malfoy gave no outwards signs of his progress. They could just wait. Nobody dared to say anything just in case it would affect Malfoy’s concentration.

It got so silent and still that Harry just wanted to scream.

“It wasn’t easy, I give you that,” Malfoy said suddenly. He sounded almost proud and there was a hint of smile on his lips. This seemed to make Ron angry and Harry saw him turn redder, but Harry managed to place a calming hand on his shoulder before Ron lashed at Malfoy.

“Did you-“ Hermione almost asked. She hadn’t dared to even finish the sentence.

“The spell was casted by Aunt Bellatrix,” Malfoy said.

“But what spell was it? What can we do to counter it?” Hermioine asked.

“She used a wasting curse which should’ve killed on contact, but there was something to it that I didn’t recognise. She is pretty ingenious with her curses. It could be anything,” he said with obvious respect that did nothing to help Ron calm down.

“Haven’t we been treating Sirius for a wasting curse?” Harry asked. They’d been giving Sirius potions that would make his sleep and rest and collect energy. There had been several pick-me-up spells as well. By all logic, they should've helped if it really was a wasting curse.

“They haven’t been working,” Remus said. “The pick-me-ups managed to bring him over the worst of it, but then they stopped working completely. It didn’t matter how many spells we cast, he seemed to be slipping under faster.”

“Any idea how she modified the wasting curse?” Hermione asked Malfoy. Malfoy seemed almost surprised by being addressed again. “You are the only one who was able to see it. Can you describe everything? Everything that might have a clue.”

“The wand movements reminded me of a preservation spell,” Malfoy said. “It makes no sense though. I must confuse it with something else.”

“Can you find the memory again?” Harry said. Malfoy turned to him and nodded. No arguing. It was refreshing.

And so they worked. Malfoy found his way to the memory, not always managing it with the first try, and described what he saw. Hermione made notes furiously. Remus helped her with the process. Harry and Ron could only stare at Malfoy and wonder what the hell they were doing. Malfoy didn’t complain. He replied when spoken to, but did his best to withdraw when the others started arguing over some detail of his description. 

Then the potion started losing its effect and Malfoy could only report back that the memory was lost to him. “I can find the general shape of it, but the details are lost.”

“What have we got?” Ron asked and looked over Hermione’s shoulder to see her notes. Harry did the same. Underlined and circled were the two things they’d already gotten from the first dive into Sirius memories: Wasting curse combined with something that might be a preservation spell. It was something, but it was not the miraculous cure they had hoped for.

“I don’t think you need me anymore,” Malfoy said. He got up but stayed there, waiting for a reaction.

“Oh. Right. I guess not. Thank you,” Harry said.

“Before you go,” Remus started. This made both Malfoy and Harry quickly turn to look at Remus. “I appreciate your help, but I need to ask. Did you look for anything else besides the memory we needed?“

Malfoy was looked calmly at Remus, clearly having picked up what Remus had meant without him having to spell it out. Sirius carried secrets that were not for his ears, and he had not earned their trust despite them having had to rely on him now. “No,” Malfoy said with a pointedly clear voice. “I did not.”

“Thank you. However-“ Remus said but without seeming any more relieved. He glanced at Harry and the others before turning back to Malfoy. “Follow me,” he finished. Malfoy did not argue and the two of them left the room. Harry turned to look at Sirius to distract himself. He had an idea what Remus might ask of Malfoy that he had not felt comfortable doing with an audience. Remus was doing his best to protect the Order, Harry knew that, but he couldn't help feeling that because this had been his idea, Remus' mistrust of Malfoy was partly mistruts of Harry now. Whatever he did, Harry felt like he could never earn enough trust that he would be let in on the secrets of the Order.

“That was weird,” Ron said. Harry turned to look at him. “I half expected him to hex either Sirius or Remus. Hell, I don’t know how we allowed any of that to happen.”

“Malfoy has been helpful while he’s been here. I don’t know why, but it feels sincere,” Harry said.  “Not that I would buy that for a moment,” he added when Ron looked at him doubtfully.

“Just… be careful, Harry,” Hermione said. She had looked up from her notes and smiled weakly at the both of them. “I won’t argue that this wouldn’t have worked surprisingly well. We have no cure, but-“

“You’ll figure it out,” Ron said.

“I don’t know what to do if this is a spell that’s not in any books. Could it be possible that Bellatrix invented it all by herself?”

“How difficult can it be to invent new spells?” Harry asked. He knew fully well that it was something none of them had ever worked with – there was nothing about inventing new spell in the curriculum at Hogwarts. That said, there were many useful spells that each of them had learned outside of school. It wasn’t impossible. But it was one more thing that they knew nothing about and had maybe a day, if they got lucky two, to solve.

“Do you think there was something in what Malfoy said?” Ron asked. “Preservation spells should by all logic be the opposite of wasting spells, but could Bellatrix have used both of them?”

“Oh.” Hermione looked like she’d had an idea. “What is the recommended cure for wasting spells?”

Ron thought a moment. “I don’t know… Revitalize?”

“That is the quick solution to it and what we’ve been using this far. But Madam Pomfrey cast a preservation spell on Sirius now that she was here. Preservation spells are usually used when the patient needs to be stabilised in order to use antitoxin on them. What if this modified wasting spell is made to twist the preservation spells? So that it actually makes preservation spells harmful.”

“What would be the point of that?” Ron asked.

“Anyone trying to cure the spell would actually cause damage to the victim. Doesn’t that sound like something that she would enjoy?” Hermione explained, getting more excited about her theory.

“Well, yes, yes it does,” Harry said. The little she knew about Bellatrix Lestrange all pointed out that she liked to draw out the pain rather than end it quickly. “How come Sirius didn’t get weaker until now?”

“I-“ Hermione paused for a moment. “Immediately after the attack all of us who got hit were treated with pick-me-up spells. They give energy from the caster or a specified energy source to the target of the spell. If the spell Sirius was hit with is one that feeds on the victim’s energy, a pick-me-up-spell would’ve given it more to deplete, giving us time. Conservation spell on the other hand doesn’t give more energy to the target, it works instead by balancing their energy levels, calming them down. You can cast pick-me-up-spells on someone until they burst, but conservation energy won’t change them.”

“It’s a well-known problem with pick-me-ups,” Ron said, seeming excited to be able to contribute with something this time. “It’s too easy to misuse them because you won’t realise you are actually depleting your energy as you cast them on yourself. Fred and George used the spell for a while when they were really focused on inventing something. Mom was really mad at them when she found out.”

“How does this help us with Sirius?” Harry asked.

“You should never cast a pick-me-up on yourself while doing something intensive. Definitely not during a battle,” Hermione explained. “You’d drain yourself out completely in a few minutes by doing that. A conservation spell on the other hand… If you’d notice something draining your energy, that is probably a first choice. It can also stop bleeding. It’s a really common spell – used for storing food and making objects last just a bit longer. If we’d cast conservation spells on Sirius immediately, he would most likely have worsened fast.”

“If your theory is right,” Ron said and turned to look at Sirius. “Doesn’t it also mean that we have even less time and we should remove the conservation spell? Because if the spell taps into it and changes its effect-“

“I would like to have Madam Pomfrey’s opinion,” Hermione said. “We do not have any time to lose.”

Harry stayed with Sirius as Ron and Hermione went to talk with Remus. They didn’t lose anything by trying their theory out. In fact, if they were right, they would need to act fast before it was too late. Harry felt too tired to think about any of this. It felt like years had passed since Sirius had collapsed. Harry looked at Sirius take shallow breaths, again and again and again, fearing that at any moment he would stop. Could they have actually found something useful with the potion and the use of legilimency? If it was something this simple, why hadn’t they noticed it before? Harry wished that for once in his life someone could swoop in to solve this problem for him. Hadn’t all that he had done this far been enough?  Didn’t he have enough to do in the future? He was tired of being responsible for saving others.

When Madam Pomfrey arrived, the first light had started to show from behind the drawn curtains. Harry had no idea what time it was. He felt like he’d been awake for days on end. When Madam Pomfrey told everyone who didn’t know how to help get out of the room, Harry didn’t even fight it. He and Ron ended up sitting down in the hallway just outside the now closed door. A moment after they’d sat down, Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from closing.

He was woken by Hermione who was smiling brightly. Sunlight was pushing all the way to the hallway through the windows of Sirius’ room that, for the first time in days, had the curtains drawn open. “Did it-“ Harry croaked, but didn’t get to finish the sentence before Hermione had hugged him.

“We think so,” Hermione said. “Once we knew it was a wasting curse after all, Madam Pomfrey – she was amazing. She removed the preservation spells and then forced the wasting curse to wither away. It turned on itself in search of magical power within Sirius. And the moment it was gone, Remus and I kept adding pick-me-ups until we couldn’t see straight to give him the strength to push through the fatigue.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Harry said quietly, hardly believing what he was hearing.

“There was the chance that it wouldn’t turn against itself”, Hermione admitted. “And that we wouldn’t be able to give him enough energy back to make him-“

“It doesn’t matter now,” Harry said, cutting Hermione off before she could finish the sentence. Harry knew how close they had gotten to losing someone, again. “It doesn’t matter. You did it, Hermione.”

“We did it. And we did have help,” Hermione said. That thought made both of them turn to look at Malfoy’s closed door.

“I will thank him. Properly. Later,” Harry said. He pushed himself up. “I need to see Sirius now.”

The relief that flushed through him as he entered the sunlit room and saw Sirius sleeping, drawing clear breaths and radiating a new kind of energy almost made his knees give up. Madam Pomfrey was gone, but Remus had once again fallen asleep half in the chair, half leaning on the bed. Harry didn’t feel any need to disturb either of them. He was happy simply seeing that what Hermione had told him was true.

He closed the door after himself. Hermione smiled at him. “Go get some sleep, Harry. Ron already gave up a few hours ago.” And Harry knew that for the first time this summer he could sleep easily.


	8. Back at the Malfoy Manor

When Harry woke up late that afternoon, he knew that something had changed. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it and instead of staying in bed to try and figure it out, he pushed it into the back of his mind. Enough of this summer had been spent with worrying. He headed down in the kitchen and found Hermione and Ron already eating breakfast.

“We were talking about heading back to the Burrow,” Ron said in between bites as Harry joined them at the table. “Now that Sirius is better, we could actually manage to have you stay for a whole day.” Harry found himself unable to give an answer. Ron took a few more bites before he paused and realised that something was the matter. “Or we could stay here,” Ron suggested.

“No, we don’t need to do that. This place is not all that fun to hang around in,” Harry said. “Sirius is probably going to sleep through the day.”

“But you’d rather stay here anyway,” Hermione finished for him. “It’s a lot to take in. Almost dying and then suddenly surviving. It makes sense if you’d want to stick around just to be sure.” She smiled at him and Harry found himself nodding, uncertainly. He wasn’t entirely certain _what_ had made him want to stay, but what he thought might be it would make Hermione and Ron uncomfortable. He no longer feared for Sirius’ life but it did make an easily acceptable reason for him to stay behind. “I’m certain that we managed to get the curse out of him,” Hermione added with a hurry, picking on Harry’s hesitation.

“I’m sure you did!” Harry said. “I’ll promise to join you at the Burrow tomorrow.”

Sirius was still asleep when Harry brought a tray of breakfast to Remus. Harry kept Remus company while he ate and then brought the tray with him to the kitchen. When he entered, he was startled to see Malfoy sitting at the table, Daily Prophet in front of him, looking _comfortable_.

“Why won’t you allow the house-elf to do anything for you?” Malfoy asked. He looked at the tray in Harry’s hands. He obviously thought that Harry was out of his mind doing housework all the day.

“You can tell him to help you out if you happen to see him,” Harry said. He paused at the edge of the table. He knew how this day would go from this moment on. They’d done this so many times already. It was all… very odd. “Malfoy-“ Harry started and then hesitated. “Are you alright?” He bit his lip. “What did Remus say to you?”

“Worried for me, Potter?” Malfoy asked his voice dry and unimpressed.

“Not especially.”

“Obviously,” Malfoy said. “He wanted to make sure that I did not spy.”

“So you are fine?” Harry asked. Why was he feeling this relieved? “I- Uh. I wish we could’ve trusted you more.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Really, Potter?”

“It’s just... You really helped out. You made it possible to save Sirius life. I don’t even know how to repay the debt. It doesn’t feel like the best start to suspect you of spying.”

“I have been accused of worse,” Malfoy said. “I don’t really care what you think. However, I do remember you promising to do whatever I decided to be an appropriate payment.”

Harry flushed unwillingly. “I won’t agree to just about anything. If it’s something that you really need help with, I’ll help. But if you just want to make someone miserable you can count me out.”

“Relax, Potter. I know my limits. Besides, what use is a favour from the-boy-who-is-bad-at-dying if I don’t make it a public deal that will make me look good?”

“I don’t get you, Malfoy,” Harry said. Having gone through an extensive smear campaign all through the year, the idea of someone wanting to use his spotlight to make themselves look good hadn’t been his first thought.

“I’m obviously not all that popular with the sophisticated pureblood crowd. I might as well play with the peasants,” Malfoy said with a shrug.

“You can’t be serious. You are _not_ serious,” Harry gasped.

Malfoy seemed amused. “I’ll find something more suitable that you can do to deal without freaking you out.”

“I actually have something I’d like to do. Don’t think of it as repaying a debt. It’s just something I’d like to do for you,” Harry said. The idea had come to him all suddenly, but he liked it. “I’d like to go back to Malfoy Manor. Wait, Malfoy, before you stop me. Let’s go see if there’s something that’s still left. We didn’t exactly stay long enough to find out last time. There is bound to be something there that you could take with you.”

“I-“, Malfoy hesitated. That wasn’t something that Harry had expected. When did Malfoy ever hesitate? He was always infuriatingly sure about his opinions, no matter how wrong they might be. Harry’s face fell. Visiting the place had been a bad idea yesterday. Malfoy obviously hadn’t changed his mind and now Harry was pushing him to go there again like an idiot.

“It would probably make you feel better if we found some of your things,” Harry started and then bit his lip. He was trying to be friendly with Malfoy, and every time he’d tried it this far it had backfired sooner rather than later.

To Harry’s astonishment, Malfoy didn’t sneer at Harry’s words. They’d been weak and sentimental, but Malfoy didn’t mock them for it. Instead, he gave a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t hate your idea, Potter. I can think myself visiting the place,” he said finally. “It didn’t feel right to leave everything that’s left there unprotected. My father would have been offended even of the thought of someone stealing them.”

Harry couldn’t say anything. Malfoy hadn’t taken up his parents voluntarily since he’d come here. There had been a few references when he’d been upset and angry and looking for reaction. This seemed to be neither.

“Potter? Are we going there today or do you have other plans?” Malfoy said.

Harry scrambled up to his feet immediately. Malfoy followed and seemed amused. Harry fetched his broom in case they wanted to explore what was left of the upper floors of the manor. He passed Sirius’ door without stopping: He didn’t want to disrupt Sirius’ sleep or wake Remus up. Harry had looked at sleeping Sirius briefly in the morning and he knew that he was getting better. That was the only reason he’d felt that it was alright for them to leave the Grimmauld place today. That and the fact that Harry really felt that he owned Malfoy something and he hated living with that thought weighing on him.

Malfoy kept his snide remarks to the minimum as Harry collected them a light lunch to take with them. Malfoy did make it clear that he felt this was a disgustingly muggle tradition since wizards called their home-elves to bring them proper lunch when eating outdoors. Harry was sure that he would not meet Malfoy’s standards of proper food even if he tried and didn’t spend too much time agonizing over what he brought with them. When they finally stepped through the main door out into the sunshine, Malfoy offered his hand without a word. Harry simply grabbed it without pausing to think. It was an odd trust they shared, but using the portkey was the easiest way to the Malfoy Manor, and Harry had already made the decision to trust in it.

The world twisted and turned like it had last time they’d used the portkey, but this time Harry managed to anticipate their arrival and stepped onto the grass without stumbling. All around them the grass was unnaturally green and well taken care of, without a doubt by magic, and in this landscape the charred remains of the Manor stood out like a sore thumb. However, the sinister feeling that had plagued Harry through that night that they’d been here for the remember-me-nots was gone with the sunlight. Now, he could see that the ruins of the Manor were nothing but the empty remains of a building and that there was simply no place for anyone to hide.

Harry took a firmer hold of his broom. He wanted to get into the air to get a better picture of what was left on the upper floors, but he was also aware of the fact that Malfoy didn’t have a broom of his own and couldn’t follow him. “You don’t think there’s any change that your broom is still here and intact?” Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged. “We can try to find out. If it’s here, it should be in the shed in the back garden. What‘s left of it.”

Whereas Malfoy had lead them around the last time, he now allowed Harry to show the way. He hanged back a bit and had turned quiet, subdued in a way, and Harry felt the need to glimpse back a few times to make sure Malfoy followed; Each time Malfoy barely met Harry’s eyes and focused instead on watching the ruins. This peace they currently shared felt very fragile. Harry feared that would he push or ask questions now, Malfoy would lash out and turn back to the way that Harry remembered him. At the same time, there was a part of Harry that itched to do just that. When they were yelling at each other he at least knew what he was doing.

When they paused where the main building ended and the garden began, Harry feared that what at first had felt like a promising idea was doomed to fail. He’d seen that there wasn’t much left of the Manor already, but he’d hoped that everything would look better in the light of day than what they had done in the middle of the night.

No such hope.

There was simply nothing left. The shed that Malfoy had spoken of – It couldn’t have survived when nothing else had. Harry turned to see what Malfoy was doing. He’s stopped further back and was now looking at Harry, clearly waiting to see if he too thought that this had been nothing but a fool’s errand. Determined not to provide a disappointment, Harry forced himself to look hopeful. “Where’s the shed?” He hoped hard that the answer wouldn’t be ‘gone’.

Malfoy said nothing and opted to show the way instead. He carefully trailed at the edge of the ash and soot that had gathered around the building, drawing a clear line between the garden and the ruins. He paused where one wing of the house ended, obscuring what lay behind, and Harry hurried to catch up with him. There, right outside the area that the fire had burnt clean, stood a little building situated in the middle of what looked like a kitchen garden – a surprisingly unassuming one. The pathways were cleanly laid in strict, geometric forms and there was nothing homey about the place like there was about the overgrowing garden around the Burrow. However, finding it still standing was truly miraculous.

Malfoy seemed to think so too because he was now truly speechless. Harry allowed his broom to fall to the ground where he stood and hurried over to the shed. The door opened with a simple Unlocking Charm _._ Once Harry’s eyes adjusted to the lack of blaring sunlight, the room looked immediately promising. There were some chests and shelves, something that could’ve been a ladder – all in all, nothing out of the ordinary in any shed. There was a window on the wall furthest away from the main building that provided some light for Harry to see by, and at the edge of the light streaming in, leaning onto the window sill… Yes. Harry scrambled to the window and nearly tripped on something left on the floor on the way, catching himself against the wall right next to the object he’d seen. He’d not imagined it. Untouched by the fire, resting against the wall stood a familiar looking broom. Harry picked it up and admired it carefully. It seemed to be in one piece, perfectly safe. Harry smiled brightly. This was bound to please Malfoy. Harry got out the way he’d gotten in and held the broom in front of himself, triumphantly. Malfoy had not moved and when he saw what Harry was carrying he looked openly surprised, and immediately after rather unsure about what he was supposed to be feeling.

“It’s okay to be happy about a simple thing”, Harry said as he stopped in front of Malfoy. He pushed broom unceremoniously towards Malfoy. Malfoy took it and once he’d gotten his hands on it, his grip immediately tightened around it. He stared at it, looking for any imperfections that it had gotten since he’d last seen it.

“I didn’t actually think it survived,” Malfoy said. He was still looking at the broom, turning it in his hands.

“Me neither,” Harry muttered, scratching his head and looking at his feet. What had he to be feel embarrassed about? He’d hoped and promised much, but he’d managed to deliver in the end, hadn’t he?

“It’s a quality broom. They don’t break as easily as the hand-me-downs all your friends use,“ Malfoy said casually without even seeming to pay any attention to Harry. He placed the broom on the ground and took his wand out. “ _Reparo_!” he said as he pointed down on it. The broom sorted itself out, the bristles now looking sleek and well-trimmed. “There.”

Harry ignored the comment and waited for a smile or a thank you or any sign that he had done the right thing, but Malfoy just mounted his broom and kicked himself into air without warning. Harry waited a moment, following Malfoys ascent with his eyes before concluding that he was most likely expected to follow. Harry knew he wouldn’t have returned to the ground for quite a while if he’d been given back a broom he’d thought lost for good. He was certain that Malfoy felt the same. Harry shot fast into the air, easily catching Malfoy who’d drifted upwards in a lazier pace. Malfoy turned to look at Harry as he reached Malfoy’s height. Malfoy nodded briefly, acknowledging who knew what, and then he smiled brightly before turning his broom into a daredevil drop.

It took a moment before Harry even thought about following. He’d been too surprised at the genuine happiness that Malfoy has displayed so freely for a moment.

They played in the air for some time until Malfoy started drifting downwards and before long landed softly onto the grass. Harry followed suit and then re-grew the little package that contained their lunch into it’s original size, lifting it in air as a suggestion. Malfoy gave one glance at the ruins of the Manor and then nodded pointedly away from it. There was no reason to hang back by the ruins. The broom had survi ved the fire, but it did not look likely that anything else had. Since there would be nothing more for them to search for, there was no reason for them to spend any longer in the unwelcoming shadow of the manor.

As Malfoy once again lead them through the garden, Harry started to feel like he’d been hit by a confundus-curse. The fire had spared the gardens and if he kept looking away from the destruction behind himself, he became uncertain if it even existed. And when Harry realised that Malfoy had brought them once again to the little pond where they’d found the Remember-me-nots by, he had started to feel welcome and to actually look forward to sitting by the water for a while.

Malfoy walked to the edge of the water which was paved with stone plates, unregular in shape but perfectly matched to each other. He unbuttoned his robe and placed it on the ground next to himself, rolled up his sleeves and idly reached to touch the surface of the water, watching as the ripples spread and then disappeared. Harry didn’t feel like imposing and looked around for a place for himself, pausing to look at the tree he knew was surrounded by the flowers but that were nowhere to be seen now.

“You can safely sit by the tree. Don’t eat them and you will be fine,” Malfoy said. He’d clearly seen Harry’s indecision.

“I thought you said…” Harry protested, remembering how careful Malfoy had been with the flowers the last time they’d been here.

“They are much more potent when they are in full bloom and glowing. Which they are after sundown,” Malfoy explained. “Some potion ingredients must be harvested at the right time of the day to work. Have you not learned anything during your years at Hogwarts?”  

Harry refrained from answering and although he did, oddly enough, want to trust Malfoy he made sure to sit down a bit further away from the trunk. Then, before Malfoy would find something else to insult him with, Harry took out the lunch and divided it into two even portions. Malfoy looked at what was offered like it was poison, but did not turn it down. The flying had left both of them feeling hungry and for a while they were both fully focused on eating.

“It doesn’t feel real,” Malfoy said after a while. He spoke softly and Harry was immediately extremely attentive. Instinctively, he knew what Malfoy was about to talk about even before Malfoy said a word more. “Being here... We would never have spent a day like this in the garden, but it is all too easy to imagine that the Manor still stands behind my back and that everyone else is just somewhere else, doing something normal.”

Harry looked down at his hands. The words that Mafloy had said the first day of this whole ordeal came back to him. _We are not the same._ And they weren’t. Harry had always daydreamed of having a family and a home. He had never had something to lose, not really. He couldn’t remember more than distant faces and that recurring nightmare… Malfoy was going through a nightmare completely different from the one that Harry had lived with.

“Everything feels unfinished,” Malfoy said. There was a tint of anger to his words now and Harry looked up quickly but Malfoy was looking away, still staring at the water like it, unlike Harry, held some answers. Everything stood still; It was like the wind had calmed down, or maybe there hadn’t even been a wind at all. “What I am trying to say,” Malfoy continued after the silence had become stiff and heavy, “It was a good idea to return here.”

“I wanted to help somehow,” Harry said. “You’ve done more than enough to help us.”

Malfoy didn’t turn to look at Harry. “I simply needed something to do.”

“I’d like to continue working with legilimency. And occulemency,” Harry admitted. “They’ve proved valuable. Both of them.”

“Of course they are valuable,” Malfoy said and scoffed.

Harry realised that he was now was probably the best chance he’d ever get to ask. “Where did you learn legilimecy, Malfoy?”

“It helps when it is something that is expected from you,” Malfoy said. “Practising occulemency was something my father felt was important. We had… reasons to suspect that there would be people out there who’d invade our privacy.”

“I know what that feels like,” Harry said. “But legilimency? Remus couldn’t do half of the stuff that you’ve managed and Remus is-“

“An adult? Most wizards never understand legilimency,” Malfoy scuffed. “I expected that you might be the exception to the rule. Good thing that showed up to be true or I’d have wasted my time.”

“Why would I be good at it? Most people in my life had already given up on teaching me occulemency,” Harry said.

“You seem to share many skills with the Dark Lord,” Malfoy said.

“No,” Harry said firmly. “I’m nothing like him.”

“Being a parseltongue is extremely rare, as it being skilled with mind magic,” Malfoy said. He turned to look at Harry poignantly. “Or do you have some other explanation?”

“I’ve just had a lot of practise with people wanting to get inside my head,” Harry said. The risk of Voldemort trying to invade his dreams constantly had made him aware of his thoughts in a completely new way. There was, however, no way to tell this to Malfoy. “You said you practised occulemency. What about legilimency?”

“It has its uses,” Malfoy said. “As how I am good at it…” Malfoy looked satisfied with himself. “I’ve had years of practise in finding out what people really want and how to align those desires with what _I_ want.”

“So you use it on your friends?” Harry asked, horrified and yet not at all surprised.

“I use it to make sure I get to keep those friends, and that the proper order of things is maintained in the Slytherin house. We are different from Gryffindor. We don’t just accept every kind of failure into our group. We make sure that we succeed,” Malfoy said. He was looking closely for Harry's reaction.

Under such scrutiny, Harry tried to keep his disgust at the idea hidden. “That sounds cruel.”

“There’s a reason why you were sorted into Gryffindor, Potter. You wouldn’t have made it in Slytherin,” Malfoy said with a little unexpected smile.

“I didn’t even want to be part of it,” Harry replied. “I even told the Sorting Hat so.”

Malfoy seemed almost impressed. “You told the Sorting Hat how you should be sorted?”

“Well, it asked me. Or it talked about sending me to Slytherin and I didn’t want to,” Harry said. He left out the part where his main reason had been that he didn’t want to end up in the same house as Malfoy. It felt like an unnecessary detail right now when they were having an almost civil lunch, at the grounds of Malfoy’s home. “I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

“That is no big surprise,” Malfoy said.

“You said yourself that I’m good at legilimency,” Harry said.

“You have the potential to be good at it. You are nowhere near good,” Malfoy replied.

“Want to test me?” Harry challenged. “I am getting good at it, and you know it. Come on, have you even practised legilimency with someone who knows what you are doing?”

“I have. And that doesn’t include you.”

“I could do with some more occulemency practise,” Harry said. He started to get a fire behind himself. He wanted to do this. He wanted to prove Malfoy that he could actually beat the boy in his own game.

“What about the precious Potter secrets?” Malfoy asked, his lack of respect for Harry’s memories clearly stated.

“You won’t see anything,” Harry said confidently. I was quite certain that he would be able to block Malfoy. Well, not entirely sure. So maybe he wouldn’t be able to block him if he was playing nice, but Malfoy was always playing dirty, wasn’t he? Harry only needed to do as Malfoy did and that couldn’t be that hard, could it?

“Fine, Potter. If you need to be proven wrong once again,” Malfoy said. He sighed.

It had been a few days since they’d done this and Harry knew that he might’ve boasted too much and that Malfoy would most likely find a way to break Harry’s barriers – if he didn’t distract him first. It was time to do something that Harry would not have considered using in any other situation, but this time it felt weirdly right. Or not right, it was completely not okay, but it _would_ distract Malfoy.

Malfoy took his wand out and pointed it at Harry. How odd that he didn’t feel afraid, Harry thought briefly, and then Malfoy was already saying the word, “ _Legilimens.”_

It was a completely different thing to actually start thinking about something in minute detail than to have broad idea of what he was about to do. Harry caught his own hesitation before it had fully formed into a thought. It was odd to be so aware of what he was thinking, but the weeks practising and projecting all his hopes on learning this had really made a difference. Now, he committed himself to the thought that he wanted to conjure. There was no need to hesitate. No need to doubt. No need to be embarrassed. Malfoy had had no problem with this and Harry wouldn’t be weaker than him.

The image started with Malfoy, impossible real and detailed. _This Malfoy – no, the real Malfoy – was chewing his lip, looking distracted and entirely focused at the same time. He sat by the water, the rest of their little shared lunch discarded next to him. He was staring, thinking that nobody had caught him at it. He was flustered which made him look only paler than usually. He had lowered his carefully built walls and for once, Malfoy did not care._

_Harry was leaning to the tree close to him, his eyes closed and entirely unaware of the attention that Malfoy was paying him. It was so rare that Harry wasn’t on guard around him that Malfoy couldn’t help but to feast his eyes when the opportunity arrived. Since the first day he’d met Harry Potter on the train to Hogwarts, the only thing Malfoy had wanted was to be his friend. Who wouldn’t? And yet, at every turn, he’d been turned down until they’d come to this point. They weren’t friends, but if Malfoy could’ve decided he’d-_

_Then, Harry moved and opened his eyes. Malfoy blushed furiously and tried to hide it behind a scowl._

_“Everything alright?” Harry asked, pushing himself upright. He yawned and looked around. And once Harry looked away from him, Malfoy’s expression softened and he couldn’t be described with anything besides desperately yearning.  
_

“That was awfully narcissistic of you,” Malfoy said dryly.

Harry grinned wildly. It was obviously that Malfoy had stumbled and his focus had been broken by the image he’d encountered. Harry could’ve sworn that Malfoy was blushing. It was nothing like Harry had imagined that it would look like – where the imagined Malfoy had looked unnaturally pale, this real Malfoy sitting in the sunlight had real colour to his face and the blush made his cheekbones appear sharper. The moment was gone in a blink of an eye, and Harry was left unsure how much he’d imagined. It could’ve just bled over from the vibrant moment he had conjured.

“Sickeningly sappy,” Malfoy said, shaking his head in disgust.

“But it worked,” Harry replied triumphantly.

“This time,” Malfoy said. He turned to look towards the Manor. “I think we should head back now. Your pseudo-parents are probably already worried by where we went.” Before Harry had said anything, Malfoy was already up to his feet and was brushing away the grass that had gotten attached to his robe. Harry realised that he might never have seen Malfoy looking so ordinary and _non-wizard-like_ – like Harry’d just had a simple picnic with someone ordinary. When Malfoy turned to look at Harry, impatient and expecting him to get moving, that thought was banished. Malfoy was definitely not someone Harry would ever think of as normal.

The portkey brought them back to the front steps of the Grimmauld place 12. Malfoy pocketed the small object quickly, wrapping it into a handkerchief routinely. That got Harry thinking. He could’ve used a portkey like this, but no-one had ever even brought up the possibility of giving him a private key like this. “How come you have a portkey, Malfoy?”

Malfoy was startled by the question and whipped around to look at Harry. “Why do you care?”

“This is unregistered, isn’t it?” It was not a hard guess to make.

“Of course not,” Malfoy replied. He did not seem too alarmed by the accusation. In fact, it seemed Harry had made a miscalculation. “My father secured a permit for it. He-“ An unintended pause. “He was close friends with the Minister.”

“And the Minister was just happy to give a permission for this key?”

“Why wouldn’t he? What could he possibly have against a key that transports me between the Manor and the last place the key was used at? It’s perfectly normal to have a key like this in the family.”

Harry was about to protest that the Weasleys didn’t have one, but didn’t say anything. He was quite sure that Malfoy was lying when he said portkeys like this were common, but Harry didn’t know much about them. He’d used one a few times and everyone had treated them like rather ordinary objects back then. Harry decided to avoid further insults on his lack of knowledge of the details of portkeys by opening the door and heading inside. Malfoy seemed to have gotten enough of his company for the day and headed directly up the stairs without as much as a word. However, he kept a tight hold of his broom like he was worried it would disappear any moment and Harry knew the trip had been a success.

Harry headed up the stairs only when Malfoy had disappeared. When he passed the door to the library, he saw Remus getting up to greet him. Harry had clearly managed to stay out long enough for Remus to notice it. He had didn’t seem too alerted, but he did give Harry a long look and clearly waited for an explanation.

“We went flying,” Harry said. “I wanted to thank him for his help with Sirius somehow.”

Remus weighed whether or not this had been irresponsible or not. He clearly decided to let it go this time. “That was nice of you, Harry,” he said and smiled. He invited Harry to join him and once they’d sat down, he gave Harry a fatherly look. “With Sirius out of commission, you’ve had to take too much responsibility of all of this. We should probably find another place for Malfoy to stay at.”

“It’s fine,” Harry hurriedly protested. “I think we’ve already figured things out. It’s not as bad as it was in the beginning.”

“We are going to talk about it at the next Order meeting anyway,” Remus said. He smiled at Harry’s reaction. “This time, you are invited. There is a lot to discuss. Including what happened at St Mungo a few days back before Sirius gave us all a scare.”


	9. Playing Dirty

Sirius was well enough to follow Harry down to the kitchen when it was time for him to leave to the Burrow for the order meeting. This time, Sirius did not grumble about being left out. He was clearly feeling better but not quite as good as to brave a journey through the floo-network. Malfoy, on the other hand, had just shrugged when Harry had warned him that he’d be away for the day. “As long as Black can restrain himself from cursing me, I think I’ll survive,” Malfoy had said and Harry had scowled at him.

When Harry arrived at the Burrow, it was already crowded. A familiar crowd had gathered but before he had the time to greet anyone Ron and Hermione found him and drew him to the side.

“How is Sirius?” Hermione asked. “Remus said he was getting much better and was already up.”

“He is still tired, but he is walking around. Complaining about having nothing to do. He didn’t argue against Remus when he said that he wouldn’t need to come today, but I’m sure he will next time,” Harry said.

“That’s a relief,” Ron said. “It feels like a nightmare now, doesn’t it? It all happened so quickly.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Speaking of sudden. Do you know why we were invited now? Just last week it was too dangerous.”

“Well, it could simply be that they realised we _can_ be of help” Hermione said. “We did save Sirius, didn’t we?“

Harry wasn’t entirely sure. Hadn’t they all showed several times that they could make a difference? Why would this time be different? Dumbledore had already once promised to let Harry know more and then denied him the meetings right after. He hated being tugged around like this.

“I’ve been working with Madam Pomfrey to write a short treatment guide for similar cases in the future,” Hermione said without any warning. She pushed forward like she was unsure if Harry wanted to hear what she had to say. “It’s still a rough sketch because we don’t actually know the incantation – Could I come over and talk with Malfoy and see if he remembers more details about the incantation?”

“Uh? Sure, if you want,” Harry said. He was a bit baffled that Hermione _wanted_ to talk Malfoy but then again if he could help her with her research, she’d probably be ready to tolerate anyone. Then he thought about it for a moment longer. “I know this sounds mad, but could I bring Malfoy with me to the Burrow instead? We could stay outside playing Quidditch. You could find a moment to question him then. I don’t want to leave him with just Sirius to watch over him, but I could use a break from Grimmauld Place once in a while.”

“You think he would behave?” Ron asked, clearly struggling not to shoot the suggestion down outright. “I would need to warn everyone.”

“He’s been pretty docile,” Harry said.

“I guess we could manage,” Ron said, but did grimace afterward. They had no time to discuss the plan any further: Mrs Weasley looked out of the kitchen and with a smile welcomed Harry and the other to join them.

Dumbledore was once again the one to start the meeting. Everyone took their turn give a quick description what they’d achieved this far, about the information they’d gathered and the rumours they’d heard. Harry had nothing to say so he stayed seated and quiet and the turn passed over him and Hermione, who sat next to him, rose up to her feet.

“I have worked closely with Madam Pomfrey and Remus to cure Sirius from the curse he was under. We managed to beat it and Sirius is recovering fast. Madam Pomfrey and I’ve started preparing a treatment plan for future cases, which there are likely going to be since the caster was a well-known Dark Wizard.” Hermione looked around quickly and as people nodded with admiration she smiled quickly before sitting down. It was only then that she looked flustered and excited. Harry briefly placed a hand on her shoulder to tell how well she’d handled it.

Remus was the last to explain what he’d been up to. “My time trying to reach werewolves and vampires who’ve not yet made alliance with the Dark Lord was sadly cut short by the attack on St Mungos,” Remus started. “As some of you already know, there were a few patients there that the Order had taken special interest in since they could’ve possibly identified and testified against Death Eaters. Hestia Jones was patrolling when the attack happened. She is still under sleeping spells because of the burns she received, but the healers are hopeful that she will make it. Mundungus will take over for her for the time being. Sadly, the ward our witnesses were at was completely destroyed in the fire so there won’t be much to guard anymore.”

A heavy silence followed the words and Remus took some time before he continued. “Setting fire to the wards is not easy, but there are plenty of ways for them to have snuck someone in or put one of the healers or patients under imperius,” Remus continued with a painful weariness shadowing his voice. Try as they might, they were far from impervious and losses like this would not end any time soon. “At that time of the night, there were no visitors and all the patients alive after the fire are still accounted for. It is unlikely that someone of them did it knowingly and we simply cannot interview all of them.”

“If the Minister would lend us some people, we could,” Moody said.

“It would be the waste of everyone’s time,” Tonk said. “Whoever responsible is most likely long gone now.”

“The more pressing concern is how the Death Eaters knew to target the wards in the first place,” Remus said. “Everyone was brought in under hidden identities and we kept our distance to be as inauspicious as possible. If they have someone at St Mungos already under their control, we need to be very careful in the future. Either that or they have found another way to get sensitive information.”

“Where do we go from here?” Moody asked. An uncomfortable silence followed.

“We will need to be even more careful to make sure no information can end up in the wrong hands,” Dumbledore said. Harry could’ve sworn that he paused to look at him a while longer than the others. Harry did not look away. What had happened in the past didn’t matter. For now, it was enough that he was once again trusted enough to get to hear all this. He would protect this information. He wouldn’t allow anyone get it from him. “At times like this, unwelcome ears can be found where one least expects. Sadly, I can think of many people who could’ve leaked the information this time. There were several aurors as well as ministry employees that were involved in either the arrests or the initial investigation.”

“We cannot suspect everyone,” Tonk huffed in frustration.

Dumbledore shook his head, neither denying nor agreeing. “There is not much we can do right now besides trying to narrow it down how they figured out this. And while we do that, we have plenty of other things to worry about. I have organised a private meeting with Fudge in three days. I’m hoping to secure his support in the future and to make him understand how careful we need to now be.” Dumbledore turned his full attention then to Harry. “How’s it with the matter of the young Mr Malfoy?”

Harry cleared his throat and got up. It was now or never. He had promised Malfoy that he could stay at Grimmauld Place and he could hardly back on his word. “Malfoy did get a letter a few days back. His friends are all cowards who wanted nothing to do with him now. Malfoy didn’t seem all that interested in trying to convince anyone otherwise,” Harry explained. Harry paused to absorb the reaction. This was clearly the answer everyone had expected. “Malfoy wasn’t against staying at Grimmauld Place,” Harry added, aiming to making it sound like an afterthought. Still, when Dumbledore looked at him almost like he was asking if Harry was sure about that, it felt like he’d seen right through him. Harry immediately tried to empty his thoughts and tried to feel if somebody was reading them but found no evidence that someone did.

“We still cannot regrettably be sure of the young Mr Malfoy’s safety,” Dumbledore said. “If it is not a problem that he prolongs his stay at Grimmauld Place, it would give the Order one less innocent to fear for.”

“He’d hardly innocent,” Ron muttered, this time so low under his breath that only Harry sitting right next to him could pick it up. Harry did his best to ignore the comment now. He knew what Ron meant and he _did_ share the notion, didn’t he? “Yes, it’s not a problem,” Harry said clearly.

“That is good to hear,” Dumbledore said. Instead of moving forward to other matters, however, he gave Harry a stern look. “It has come to my attention that you have been practising legilimency with Malfoy. I must strongly advice you against continuing with it.”

Harry could only close his mouth before he said anything stupid. He had not thought that Remus might tell others about Malfoy’s involvement. Working with Malfoy had allowed him to finally get in control of his thoughts. Remus had a lot to do so it made only sense for Harry to keep on working with Malfoy, didn’t it? However, there was no arguing Dumbledore and especially not right here. Harry sat down and slumped in his chair.

When Harry dared to look around again, they’d continued to other things and Ron was looking at Harry, worry clearly written on his face. Harry just shook his head. It wasn’t the place or the time to discuss what was bringing him down.

The meeting was over soon enough and Harry, Hermione and Ron fled the chaos outdoors. They wandered to the end of the garden to find some privacy.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked immediately.

“I’m glad they let us join an Order meeting just to tell me not to do anything. Not even train occulemancy anymore,” Harry said fully aware that he was moping.

“It sucks,” Ron agreed. “It’s not enough to have Malfoy stuck at Grimmauld Place, now you get chastised for making the most of it.”

Harry turned to Ron in surprise. They had not talked about it, but he had never in his wildest dreams thought he’d hear Ron approve. Ron clearly saw Harry’s surprise and shrugged.

“You needed something to do,” Ron said in an eerie echo of Malfoy’s words.

Hermione looked unconvinced. “I think Dumbledore is right, Harry. You shouldn’t keep practising with him. We cannot let him know any more secrets.”

“It’s not like he has anyone to tell anything we are up to,” Harry said. It was a sobering thought that made both Ron and Hermione look sympathetic.

“It’s just weird,” Ron said quietly. “I know it’s not just me.”

“Agreed,” Harry said.

The three of them stayed outside for a while longer. They watched as people stepped out one by one of the kitchen door to apparate away. The evening was falling all around them and they talked about everything and nothing. It was surprisingly easy to just forget about everything going on somewhere out there in the world, far away from them now. Still, something nagged Harry’s sub-consciousness and made him glance back towards the Burrow once in a while.

It was after Harry had lost the line of conversation and had glanced over his shoulder again that Hermione nudged him. “Go home. You’ll feel better if you see how much progress Sirius has made.”

Harry gave a sad smile, but climbed up to his feet. He hugged them both before he headed back to the house. It was quiet now and everyone had already gone. Mrs Weasley was sitting in one of the armchairs before the fireplace and smiled as she saw Harry. She gave him a warm hug and a tin of homemade cookies before ushering him through to the fireplace back to the Grimmauld Place. Once through to the other side, Harry was immediately greeted by Sirius and Remus sitting by the kitchen table.

Harry placed the cookie tin Mrs Weasley had given him on the table almost defiantly. That got a chuckle from Sirius.

“I told you he wouldn’t just accept getting told no,” Sirius said to Remus.

“Why would I?” Harry asked.

“I understand that I’ve not been the best teacher,” Remus said. “It is not an optimal situation. However-“ Remus paused and took out his wand and said a silencing spell that surrounded them, passing the air and forming a slightly visible bubble with a sizzling sound. “Dumbledore has offered Malfoy this place as a safe haven and several compromises have been made because of that. Despite this, we cannot trust him with the secrets of the Order. Practising occulemancy with him… is not safe.”

“Who could he even tell to if he’d hear something?” Harry grumbled. “Won’t we need to do something already to stop Malfoy telling about everything he’s seen and heard this far?”

“There are very few ways to stop someone from telling about something if they really want to. Even the conditions of an unbreakable curse can be bended and avoided if one is determined enough, especially if Malfoy would ever feel like giving his life for the cause of the Dark Lord-“ Remus explained.

“That’s not going to happen,” Harry said. “He isn’t the self-sacrificing sort. Besides, I don’t think he’d actually working with Voldemort.”

“I wish I could have your absolute fate in the matter,” Remus said. “I will be here as often as I can to practise with you, but I need you to promise not to practise anymore with Malfoy.”

“Fine,” Harry snapped.

“Thank you, Harry,” Remus said.

xxx

The following morning, Harry woke up feeling determined. The meeting hadn’t given him anything to do, but as Hermione had pointed out before it, they had been able to make a difference even without the Order. If they kept doing that, at some point Dumbledore would stop ignoring them. For now, that meant focusing on Hermione’s work and giving her an opportunity to ask questions from Malfoy.

Harry had gotten halfway down the stairs when he suddenly had to stop. He had an intense feeling that he was forgetting about something, something important and something he tried his hardest to remember. It had just crossed his mind for a brief moment, but it was suddenly unbelievable hard catching the thought. It had something to do with Malfoy. Something about their picnic at the Malfoy Manor. It was something he’d meant to say, something he should’ve asked on one of the rare moments when they’d been guaranteed some privacy. Why hadn’t he had the courage back then? Really, he’d knew Malfoy pretty well by now after spending two weeks locked in the house with him. Why had he hesitated? Harry felt angry at himself for wasting the opportunity he’d had. Malfoy had been right there with him and he’d been willing to talk. For once, Malfoy hadn’t had his walls up and if Harry just wouldn’t have been such a coward, he could’ve had the best chance to catch him completely unawares that he’d ever had. Hadn’t Harry wanted so bad to grab Malfoy by his shoulders and push him down? _Oh, he’d wanted to see the look of shock and disbelief in Malfoy’s eyes when he threw the boy to the ground and-_ _The disbelief that Harry could do something like that. That Harry had no control over himself._

Harry blinked. He blushed furiously and started feeling the fire boiling within himself. He rushed the stairs down and could just about see the door to the kitchen close. Once he entered the kitchen he could see Malfoy smiling to his cup of tea, acting like he hadn’t just ran down the stairs too. “Did you sleep well?” Malfoy asked and fixed Harry in the spot with a simple, pleasant smile.

“What did you do?” Harry asked. He had to make an effort to keep his voice down because he really didn’t want to. “You entered my mind and planted that _thing_ there, didn’t you? What made you think that you could do that?”

“Yes, Potter, I planted the thought there. Otherwise there’s something you should probably be telling me,” Malfoy said. He was looking very pleased with himself.

“No. Malfoy, that’s just sick. Why would you do that?” Harry said. He felt his heart miss a beat and a feeling of utter dread took over him. “Have you been doing that to me? Have you used legilimency on me?” _Have I been a complete fool for trusting you?_

Malfoy grew serious immediately. “No, Potter. I’m not fool enough to think that me tampering with your mind would go unnoticed. That’s why I made sure to make it a thought that you’d be bound to notice,” he explained. He did not seem guilty, but was no longer smiling. “You wanted to keep practising occulemency with me. You should’ve been more alert,” he then added with a shrug. Almost as if it hadn’t been his problem.

“I didn’t mean like this,” Harry said.

“Are you going to practise being alert all the time by only practising when I’m staring at you?” Malfoy asked.

Malfoy did have a point, but it still didn’t make what had happened right. “Is this your way of saying that you can easily get into my thoughts and find out everything you want?” Harry asked, daring Malfoy to say no. What people had been fearing was true. He was an idiot.

Malfoy shrugged again. “I haven’t felt the need to try.”

“And I’m just to trust you?” Harry said. He couldn’t help a small laugh. This was truly insane. He’d gone out just yesterday to be stuck with Malfoy even longer, only to have this happen now.

“Have I done anything to make you suspect otherwise during the time I’ve been here?” Malfoy asked. He sounded sincere, but Harry had still a sour taste left in his mouth.

“It doesn’t really help compared with all the years before when you took every opportunity to make trouble for me.”

“Potter, who do you think I’m going to tell your precious secrets to?” Malfoy asked. The words struck Harry extremely familiar and to his own shock, Harry realised he wanted to believe them. Just like that, the anger evaporated.

Harry sat down and summoned the teapot and a cup to himself and was surprised that there was some left for him. Of all the days when Malfoy had felt the need to be generous… Harry took a moment to think. They hadn’t spent time together yesterday because of the order meeting. The day before that, he’d brought Malfoy a broom and had spent a entirely pleasant day at the Manor… which did not include any of the fake memory that Malfoy had just planted in his mind. “Why would you make up that kind of an memory?” Harry asked

“It is obviously working,” Malfoy said. “It’s easy to spin from something real. And since I doubt you would’ve appreciated me going through your mind to build something more believable, it was easier to keep it to something more recent.”

“Not what I asked,” Harry mumbled but when Malfoy looked satisfied once more he refrained from demanding a proper explanation. He had to hide his face behind the tea mug because he’d flushed red again with just the memory of the thought. He’d known where the thought had been on its way and it really didn’t help that his imagination had now provided him a blushing Malfoy, a whole lot more accurate representation of that than Harry wished he knew how to create. “Couldn’t it have been puppies or something?”

“Do puppies make the great Harry Potter mumble and blush? I don’t think so. Contrary to what you seem to think, Potter, I do still find it entertaining to make your life harder.”

“Just a ‘Hey, I got in’ would’ve been enough. And before you make any more additions to our training routine, consult me first,” Harry said. He hoped that he’d sounded certain of what he’d said. “And I have the permission to retaliate,” he added.

Malfoy seemed amused. “You should know better, Potter.”

“I know,” Harry replied. He took a sip of his tea. “Everyone thinks I should stop practising with you.”

Malfoy looked cautious, but when Harry just shrugged, Malfoy smiled. “That is very Slytherin of you. How are you planning to deal with the fact that the werewolf will find out once you practise with him?”

“ _Remus_ should understand that I can’t wait for him to have the time to teach me,” Harry said. It was a good question that he had no answer to. There were too many lies in his life right now, Harry thought as he stared at the teacup in his hands. He really needed to get to the Burrow where life would be simpler, for a moment at least. Harry looked up and Malfoy answered his gaze with curiosity. “We are going to the Burrow today.”

“No, thank you,” Malfoy replied immediately.

“You don’t have a choice. Sirius needs rest and he will just watch for you if I leave you two alone here. Besides, Hermione wants to speak with you.”

“What does the mud-“ Malfoy started, but to Harry surprise stopped before he could finish. “What does Granger want with me?”

“It’s about the curse. She hoped you could remember something of what you saw when you read Sirius mind,“ Harry said. “And if you help out, you get to play Quidditch with us.”

At the talk of Quidditch Malfoy seemed just marginally interested, but he still shook his head. “I don’t want to go there, Potter.”

“I don’t want to leave you here. You don’t get a choice. Find your broom. We are going once I’ve eaten.”

Malfoy took his broom with him, but he just glared at Harry all the way to the fireplace and even after they’d stumbled out. Malfoy stayed right where he’d landed, looking disgusted by the place he’d ended up in although it couldn’t have been any different from when Malfoy had paid a brief visit here the last time. Ron and Hermione were already on their way, alerted by the sounds coming from the fireplace, and greeted Harry enthusiastically and Malfoy with brief and only polite nods. When Harry suggested they’d get to the Quidditch field first, Ron agreed and made enough noise to alert all the Weasley children in residence. Everyone had apparently been briefed about Malfoy coming and he was treated with four more polite nods before they were on their way out through the kitchen door. Harry saw Hermione fall behind to talk to Malfoy, and that was the moment when Harry decided he was no longer his problem. Harry was here to play Quidditch and forget about everything else.

It didn’t take long before Harry was floating in the sky, trying to see the snitch. Ginny was darting over the playing field, playing seeker for the other team made of Fred and Bill, who’d happened to be visiting and had gladly joined to fill the numbers. Ron was practising his skills as a keeper, but he was mostly concentrating on keeping the bludgers away from himself. George was currently fighting with Fred, both spinning almost uncontrollably in the air in a challenge to best the other, points and the proper rules of Quidditch long forgotten.

Harry was happy, but he couldn’t help but look from time to time at the small figures that were Malfoy and Hermione, seated in the far corner of the field. Hermione was explaining something and Malfoy had his arms crossed, without a doubt looking unimpressed. As Harry looked at them, Malfoy turned to look up like he’d noticed Harry watching. Hermione turned to look as well and waved her arm. Harry answered the wave and took a dive right after so that Ginny wouldn’t realise that his attention was drifting.

Ginny rushed after him, but it didn’t take her too long to realise that Harry hadn’t actually noticed the snitch and as Harry floated upwards she flew to him. Her cheeks were red from the wind and she was smiling easily. “I think Fred actually cast that hiding spell on the snitch that he was talking about,” Ginny said. She was flying side by side with Harry now – playing with the Weasleys was rarely just about competition.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Harry said. He made a few rounds around the field, Ginny tailing him now, just to demonstrate that he hadn’t given up hope yet. The snitch would have to be somewhere – maybe among the grass instead of in the sky, but it wouldn’t leave the playing area.

As Harry was scanning through the grass, he started thinking about Malfoy again. It was nothing more than a feeling of presence really – everything else was as it should be, but Malfoy was here. Invited by him. Harry stopped in the air and Ginny was immediately there, looking at him and trying to sort out what he’d seen. “Is everything all right?” Ginny asked when she couldn't immedaitely see anything that would've explained Harry's sudden stop.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. He must've just imagined it. Malfoy hadn’t actually tried to feed him one of those images right now. He’d just happened to start thinking about Malfoy, nothing sinister about it. He couldn’t help but glance at the corner where Hermione and Malfoy were sitting. Hermione would notice immediately if Malfoy got unfocused, and being questioned by Hermione was most likely keeping Malfoy pre-occupied. It was unlikely that Malfoy would do something like the morning when he was surrounded by so many of Harry’s friends.

“Weird that he’s here,” Ginny said quietly. Harry felt guilty for having been caught staring and quickly turned himself around to face Ginny.

“It’s odd,” he agreed and grimaced. “Let’s find that snitch so that we can get something to eat.” He’d rather not talk about this. It was unquestionably his fault that Malfoy was here, but he wasn’t sure what he really thought about it.

It took a good while, even with Ginny and Harry working together. They went systematically through the ground, looking behind every bush and places of tall grass. It was Ginny who managed to get the snitch startled into flight and the moment Harry saw the glint of the gold in the air, his seeker’s instincts kicked in. He swirled through the air, only vaguely aware of the ground getting closer. He reached out with his hand and yes! He got it! He shot up in the air again, feeling triumphant. For that brief moment, he didn’t have to think about anything.

When he landed, the first thing he saw was Malfoy and Hermione approaching them. Malfoy looked apprehensive and Hermione pensive but before Harry managed to ask how it had gone, Ron came running and threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders, dragging him away. Naturally, Harry had brought victory to his team even though neither side was quite sure how many points had been made before it. Nobody really minded. Fred and George looked battered and there had obviously been a few curses thrown during the game: Fred’s hair was standing upright and George seemed to have difficulties keeping a straight face and not falling into uncontrollable bursts of laughter. Ginny was the one to cast a spell to disable both spells and then they started towards the kitchen in an unorganized group.

Harry was half listening to Ron explaine his heroics from during the game when he became aware of Malfoy falling behind with Hermione. They were still talking about something and a quick glance told Harry that Malfoy had retreated into a cold shell that made it impossible to say what he was thinking. Ron kept explaining on as Harry reached for his wand that he kept in his pocket. He wrapped his hand around it, but didn’t dare to draw it out. Legilimency was mostly about control of you and the other’s thoughts. The wand would just give you guidance of it. And so, when there was a loud shriek when Fred and George proposed to demonstrate the curses they’d used during the match on Ginny, Harry whispered the word, “ _Legimens_.”

He thought about moving through the air and reaching Malfoy, just a gentle touch, sneaking closer. With effort, he managed to keep walking next to Ron without stumbling. He pushed his thoughts towards Malfoy, already working on an image to create – only to be stopped by an impenetrable wall of white. Harry had to turn to look back and Malfoy looked at him, glaring.

“What is it, Malfoy?” Hermione asked quietly. Harry was only able to hear it because he’d sifted his focus away from Ron. Malfoy just shrugged. Harry turned away just in time to nod for Ron as he turned to Harry to make sure he was still following the story.

Mrs Weasley had no problems preparing a royal feast for them. She pointedly fussed all around the kitchen except in the corner where Malfoy had backed to. When she withdrew, Malfoy dared to join them at the table, but made no attempt to join into the conversation. Harry gave a few worried looks at Malfoy to make sure he was still there, but as he showed no signs of disappearing, Harry allowed himself to be lulled into the sense of security. Malfoy might not be happy, but he wasn’t making anyone else miserable either and that would do.

After they’d eaten, everyone expect Bill were up to for some more outdoor excitement. On the way back to the field Ginny was talking with Fred and George about some new additions to the snitch and once they got there, the twins took a moment to make the snitch just a bit less shy and something else that they weren’t willing to share just yet. Harry looked them work when Hermione came to him.

She said nothing immediately so Harry braved to ask the question that he’d not gotten to earlier. “What have you found out?” Harry asked. “Has Malfoy been alright to work with?”

“He’s been polite enough,” Hermione said. “More than what I expected. I don’t think he actually wanted to talk with me, but he did give me a clear description of everything he could remember.”

“Something useful?” Harry asked.

“Too early to tell,” Hermione said. “I’d like to go get some more books from Hogwarts. I should also get the books that I’ve already loaned back before Madam Pince gets mad at me. But we’ll figure the curse out sooner or later.”

That was when Fred turned around, grinning brilliantly. “It’s not as shy anymore,” he said. Harry doubted if that was as good of a thing as he made it sound. “Ready for a rematch?”

“Sure,” Harry replied. “Are you going to keep interviewing Malfoy?” he asked while turning to look at Hermione.

“I don’t think there’s that much left to talk about.“

When Harry turned to look at Ron again, he’d already guessed what Harry was about to ask. “I did promise to him that he might get to play a bit,” Harry said sheepishly instead of asking the question.

“We are down a player,” Ron said and returned the smile with a struggle. “We might as well. Although it is weird.” Harry wasn’t going to argue against that.

No-one else would go to Malfoy and tell him that he could play with them – if he wanted – so it fell to Harry to do it. Malfoy had drifted far enough not to belong to the group but had still very obviously stayed within sight. Harry wondered how much of it was calculated by Malfoy. It did seem like something that he would be conscious about. Malfoy raised an eyebrow as he noticed Harry heading towards him. He had his arms crossed, and looked displeased, but that was how he’d looked like the whole day. Harry started to doubt that playing Quidditch with them might not be an improvement to working with Hermione. Maybe Malfoy would say no.

“We are going to start playing soon”, Harry said.

“That much was obvious,” Malfoy replied.

“We are missing one player,” Harry said. It was clearly an excuse and the both of them knew it. Malfoy looked almost amused by Harry’s coyness for a moment

“Is this one more instance of being part of your charity project, Potter?” Malfoy asked.

“Maybe”, Harry replied. “And I did promise earlier.” No point trying to make Malfoy realise that being a decent human being was not that much of an effort for most people. Besides, Malfoy might be right this time. Harry would hardly have offered this if Malfoy hadn’t been helpful lately.

“Fine,” Malfoy agreed. He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m going to play seeker. That’s not up to discussion. I’m not going to give the Weasels more opportunities to throw bludgers at me than strictly necessary.”

“They wouldn’t!” Harry said instinctively, but he knew that he might not have thought It through. Fred and George would take every chance they could get to try their new, mean and improved bludgers at someone like Malfoy. ”I’ll tell them to keep it at minimum.”

“Don’t, Potter,” Malfoy said. ”I can take care of myself.” He then stalked off to where they’d gathered their brooms.

When Harry joined the company of Ron and the other Weasleys, it was obvious that this would take some goodwill to work. Malfoy was leaning to his broom, glaring at the others, Fred and George were obviously already scheming something and Ginny was looking between Ron and Harry, expecting one of them to know how to go from here.

“Uhm, We need to create teams,” Ron said looking through the group of people. “Ginny, can you play with Harry and Fred? And I’ll play with George and... Malfoy.” Ron gave a smile. Harry returned it – he was thankful for the effort.

Harry turned to look at Malfoy who just shrugged and kicked off into the air. Harry decided to follow the example. Thing were simpler in the air. How many times had he thought about that today?

The snitch was definitely not shy anymore. It was aggressive, and deviously fast. It started the match by taunting both Harry and Malfoy and making them dash madly, barely avoiding a collision several times. It liked placing itself just at the edge of the range of vision which meant that they spent less time looking for the snitch and more on darting back and forth. All this was made more dangerous by the fact that the bludgers were coming for Malfoy with vengeance – and now Harry was more often than not in their way.

The match couldn’t have been going for more than half an hour, but Harry was dead tired. He’d spent too many days indoors doing nothing to be thrown in the maddest game he’d ever played with the Weasleys. Malfoy’s presence had made the twins to work harder than usual on their game enhancing spells. Now, Harry was drenched in sweat because the snitch – it was just there. Hovering so close to him. But he knew that the moment he darted for it, it would fly away. Malfoy was flying high above the field. Harry was unsure if Malfoy was hatching some sort of plan or if he’d also given up.

Harry found the snitch again.  It was just a quick dash away and he should be able to surprise it this time. He pressed himself flat against his broom and shot away, aiming to pass the snitch right underneath it. The wind rushed past him when he twisted around with the broom, ad right there, right in front of him he saw the glimmer of the snitch when

He recognised Malfoy’s handywork immediately. There was a glimpse of Harry, reaching out towards the snitch that twisted and turned and was _no longer the golden sphere it had been a moment ago. Harry was no longer in the air. He’d just stepped onto the grass, watching Malfoy lift his hand in air triumphantly and Harry was reaching towards him, wishing he was more like Malfoy, wishing that Malfoy would turn to look at him,_ but Harry said no to it. He pushed the image aside and reached towards the snitch that was in reality still in front of him, right at his fingertips... The moment Harry felt the soft metal under his fingers, he twisted around to look for Malfoy.

Malfoy was rushing down towards Harry and the snitch, just about to realise that it was too late for him and that Harry had not been fooled by his dirty trick. It was with a sense of lightness that Harry felt an image form in his mind, a return gift...

The reality twisted into _Malfoy crashing into Harry mid-air, sending both of them spiralling towards the ground. There was no time to force the brooms to pull up and they went tumbling onto the ground. Malfoy was the one who made a better landing and managed to stumble back up to his feet. Harry landed badly, losing his glasses in the process and rolling on the ground for a few more feet._

_Malfoy turned around, looking worried. He then scrambled over to Harry and kneeled next to him, knowing that he’d been at fault at the collision. He looked around in the grass, trying to find Harry’s glasses. When he found them, slightly mangled from the fall but miraculously in one piece, he thrusted them towards Harry. Harry’s hand missed the offered glasses the first time for he was thoroughly disoriented and when he busied himself with untwisting the glasses and getting them on his nose, Malfoy drew back, hesitant._

_When Malfoy knew Harry wasn’t looking, he paused and a little charmed smile tugged at his lips. Without warning, he reached out with his hand and brushed away the worst smear of mud that Harry had gotten on his cheek, almost gently, almost without even knowing what he was doing. Harry had been working on cleaning up his glasses, but he stopped to look up at the touch, glasses in his hands, eyes unfocused, uncertain._

_Malfoy leaned in and kissed him. Malfoy took hold of Harry’s face with both of his hands and kissed him hard, breathless, not wanting to let go-_

And Harry let go of the thought, leaving it behind himself as he shoot up in the air again with his fingers wrapped gently around the snitch. Harry felt a joyous laughter bubbling within him and flipped around, ready to taunt Malfoy.

Malfoy had been left far behind and was hovering in place. Had he given up the chase halfway through? Harry flew closer, holding the snitch in an upraised hand so that everybody knew that the game was over. Once Harry was within arms-length of Malfoy, the boy turned to look at him. He wasn’t as angry as Harry had expected. No, he seemed almost impressed. “That was a dirty trick,” Malfoy said quietly. There was no way no-one else could hear the words.

Harry laughed. “You are not so unbeatable in your game, after all.”

Malfoy gave no reply and turned his back to Harry, heading towards the ground.

Harry landed and was immediately surrounded by the Weasleys. He complimented Fred and George about the new spells on the snitch and really hoped that they’d remove them before they played next time. One game like this was enough. However, all in all it had been a success. Ron too was pleased to see the game go as well as it had.

“Sure, it would’ve been nicer to be in your team,” Ron complained, but gave him a grin nonetheless.

They collected their things and called it a day. It was when they were ready to leave back towards the house when Hermione joined Harry.

“What happened with Malfoy at the end of the game?” she asked. She looked around just to make sure nobody was listening. “Something happened with him in the air, didn’t it? Harry?”

“Oh, I, uh. I don’t know. He wouldn’t say,” Harry said. He felt really bad about the lie, but there was no way he’d tell Hermione that he’d resorted to playing dirty.

“Really?” Hermione asked, just a bit of suspicion slipping to her voice. “It must’ve been something to give up on chasing the snitch and let you win. Just... Don’t let him affect you too much.”

Harry didn’t dare to ask what she meant. He was afraid he wouldn’t like the answer.


	10. The point of no return

The following day, Harry found himself sitting in the library along with Malfoy, not really doing anything. They’d drifted there without any sort of plan. Harry knew he should probably suggest that they practise legilimency because that was what they did when they were left alone together, but today he hadn’t felt like it. He’d already broken the promise not to keep practising with Malfoy – if what they’d done yesterday could be called practising – and now he felt a bit guilty. Remus might come today and Harry didn’t want the first thing after the meeting be him getting caught of not following the one instruction he’d gotten.

So instead of doing something valuable, he sat watching Malfoy leaf through a book that clearly didn’t have his attention. He turned the page again and looked up, now catching Harry staring at him. “Horrible assortment of aged spellbooks is not my idea of good reading,” he said and closed the book.

“Even if you’d find some creative curses in them?” Harry asked.

“I have enough curses to make your life miserable, Potter,” Malfoy said with a ghost of smirk slipping through to his lips. Harry smiled back. He had never thought that he’d want to get along with Malfoy, but somehow it had now happened and he found himself liking it.

A sound from downstairs alerted Harry to the fact that someone had entered through the front door. “That must be Remus. We can practise some of the curses later if that will help you not die of boredom,” Harry said. “Just... don’t hex me without warning and I won’t hex you.” He got up and headed towards the door and got as far as the landing before he realised his earlier mistake. Remus wasn’t the only one to have arrived.

“It seems like you’ve learned to manage your temper, Potter,” Professor Snape said as a greeting. The very familiar snarl made Harry’s good mood evaporate instantly. Before Harry managed to ask Remus what Snape was doing here, Malfoy came practically running to join him at the door.

“Professor Snape!” Malfoy said, sounding delighted. “I didn’t know you would be coming here.”

“Draco, I’d love to speak with you, but I need to talk with Potter first.” He turned to Harry and seemed to enjoy what he was about to say. “Dumbledore has asked me to teach you even during the summer. He fears... you are falling behind in certain subjects. Please follow me.”

Snape turned around to head towards the kitchen but Harry found himself unable to move. He looked at Remus who smiled apologically. “Snape will be able to explain everything. I have the time to say hi before I need to head out again. This is what Dumbledore thinks is the best.”

“Potter? Don’t think I won’t hesitate to head directly back to Dumbledore and tell him that his star student questions his judgement,” Snape said from the bottom of the stairs. That got Harry moving and with every step he took downwards, he could feel his mood darken. First he’d been shocked to see Snape who he’d managed to avoid through most of last year. Then that shock quickly turned to anger. If this had been Dumbledore’s doing, why hadn’t anyone warned Harry ahead of time? They entered the kitchen and once inside and the door safely closed, Snape cast a silencing spell around them with a fast flick of his wand.

“What does Dumbledore have to say?” Harry asked. He crossed his arms in a vain attempt to appear defiant. One glare from Snape and Harry felt himself flinch.

“Dumbledore has left no message for you. What I already told you is all you need to know,” Snape said. “I did not enjoy hearing that you still need teaching in occulemancy.” He sounded as displeased about the situation as Harry.

“We can agree on not doing it then, professor,” Harry said.

“I don’t care what you want, Potter,” Snape retorted. “Dumbledore finds this to be of the outmost importance. Sadly, I know my time will be wasted here because you made no progress during the time we were practising nor under Lupin’s tutelage.”

“I’ve gotten better,” Harry said. He looked Snape into the eyes.

“Really?” Snape asked. He didn’t waste a fraction of second before he had his wand out and pointing at Harry’s forehead. “ _Legilimens_!”

Harry tried to stop it from happening. His heart started beating like a wild thing caught in a trap and he tried not to think about anything, but one by one memories started slipping from his grasp. He gasped as the one from yesterday, the one that wasn’t really his memory, filled his mind. It was the memory that he’d conjured to make Malfoy lose the race for the snitch. It looked all wrong as Harry looked up, dazed, and Malfoy leaned in to kiss him.

“That was pitiful of you, Potter. I rather think that wasn’t a memory you were willing to share with me,” Snape said. He tried to sound pleased for having humiliated Harry, but it was apparent that he really hadn’t expected what he’d seen. Snape had most likely never imagined Malfoy to...

Oh god. Malfoy would kill him. Malfoy would kill him the moment he’d find out that Harry had failed to hid something like that if Harry wouldn’t die out of embarrassment first. “It’s not what it looks like!” Harry gasped. He hated the fact that he was turning red as it ate what little there remained of his believability.

“What is it then?” Snape demanded to know.

“We were just-“ Harry started and realised that there was nothing he could say. Telling that he and Malfoy had been practising occulemency even when told not to? Which part would make Snape angrier – the fact that Harry had clearly entered Malfoy’s mind only to cheat at a game and thus put Malfoy potentially in danger? Or the fact that Harry was still risking giving away all of the secrets of the Order by allowing this to keep happening?

“Do you think being busy fooling around is an acceptable reason for you to neglect your occulemency practise?” Snape’s tone was ice cold now.

Harry backed against the door, feeling trapped. “It’s not real,” he pleaded.

“You’ve been daydreaming?” Snape asked. He managed to sound both astonished and extremely disappointed at the same time. “I wonder what Draco would think if he knew.”

Harry felt even smaller. It didn’t matter what he’d say. Even if he’d try to explain the truth, it wouldn’t sound good. It was all Malfoy fault, but Snape would never give Harry the benefit of the doubt. Malfoy had started it all and if he hadn’t started creating those fake memories of Harry worshipping him, they’d never escalated to this point. Malfoy had been the one to create the first image of Harry kissing him, hadn’t he? Harry had just wanted to pay back. It had worked so well – Malfoy hadn’t expected him to be up to the challenge expected it from him and it had worked perfectly. Except, well, him getting caught doing it.

“We will be practising later today,” Snape said when Harry couldn’t give him a reply. “You are obviously completely unprepared for this right now. Do ask Draco to come in on your way out.”

Harry left the room and closed the door as fast as he could. He could still feel his face burning and he didn’t want to turn around to meet Malfoy. He really didn’t have a choice in the matter, though. The longer he stood here, frozen, by the door, hand on the handle, the more obvious it would be that something was the matter.

Harry let go of the door and turned around to find Malfoy sitting on the stairs, smirking. “Did professor Snape give you a compliment in there?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry groaned. “He has time for you now.”

Malfoy made no move to get out of his way. “Seriously, Potter. What happened?”

“None of your business,” Harry replied sharply. “You don’t want to know.”

“Did Snape come on to you?” Malfoy asked.

“NO!” Harry gasped. Even the idea of it made him shiver in disgust. “Just go talk to him!” he said and stormed away. Harry made his way up the stairs with long strides, hoping that his feet would find him the way to the safety of his own room. Malfoy’s laughter seemed to echo in the hallway and Harry couldn’t help turning even redder. When had they reached this point in this mockery of friendship, Harry wondered.

Time passed cruciatingly slowly after that. Once Harry could no longer feel his cheeks burning, he went out to search for Sirius and Remus only to find out that Remus had been true to his word and already left. In Sirius, Harry found a sympathetic listener. Having Snape barge in like this didn’t brighten either of their days.

“He is still part of the Order,” Sirius said. “Remus was needed elsewhere and clearly Snape and Dumbledore have re-evaluated the risk of having Snape come here.”

“They could’ve told me about this,” Harry grumbled.

Then, what seemed like days later but which was most likely just a few hours into the afternoon, Malfoy re-emerged from the kitchen. He looked to be in a lighter mood than Harry had seen him since he arrived and, to Harry’s relief, seemed still none the wiser of what had happened between Harry and Snape. Sirius had at this point already returned back to his room to rest, forcing Harry to deal alone with Malfoy’s good mood.

“Enjoyed your talk with Snape?” Harry asked out of morbid curiousity.

“Yes, Potter, I did. I was rather tired of being surrounded by your miscast of a family,” Malfoy said. “He even brought me some of my things that I’d stored at Hogwarths!” he added with undeniable delight.

“I’m sure we could’ve gone to Diagon Alley to get you some things,” Harry said. He hated how jealous he sounded. It was good that other people managed to make Malfoy happy, but did it have to be Snape?

“I doubt that,” Malfoy replied. “If I’m not allowed to even go out onto the street, how do you think letting me into crowds of wizards would work?”

“Right,” Harry said. “The idea of being in constant danger is new to you.”

Malfoy parted his lips to retort with something, but decided not to. He nodded to acknowledge that Harry had a point. “Professor Snape said that you two could have your lesson now if you’ve calmed down,” Malfoy then added and Harry took the exit he’d offered, leaving Malfoy and his annoyingly good mood behind in the library as he headed to the kitchen and his doom.

Snape looked all too comfortable in what should’ve been Harry’s kitchen. He gave Harry his best disappointed glare when he entered. “Potter, you decided to enlighten my day with your presence after all. Contrary to what you seem to believe, I’d rather not spend my whole day here.”

“I’m sorry, professor,” Harry said. It could only help his situation to give Snape what he wanted for now.

“I am not here for you to pick and choose when you feel like having a lesson,” Snape said. “I expect you to start practising from now on. It was unfortunate that our lessons did not stop you from acting foolishly at the end of the school year. I won’t tolerate something similar again.”

Harry bit down on the instinctively reply that a lack of lessons last year hadn’t exactly been his fault. However, there was no point in saying that aloud. “I am sorry. It won’t happen again,” Harry said instead and sincerely hoped that he could keep his word. He took a deep breath. “Before we start, could you at least tell me why Remus didn’t continue as my teacher?”

“Besides not proving up to the task, you mean?” Snape said, taking obvious pleasure in seeing Harry look up in anger. “There are plenty of people in the Order who cannot do their part. Lupin was needed to cover for Mundungus Fletcher who upon arrival at the St Mungos took one firecall to tell he’d arrived and then promptly disappeared.”

That was it? Harry was stuck with Snape because Mundungus had not been able to stay at his task? Harry’s dislike of the man kept only increasing.

“Now that you know this, have you occulemency skills improved, Potter?” Snape asked.

The temptation to say ‘yes’ was there, but Harry succesfully fought it. “No, professor.”

“Calm and empty your mind, Potter. I do not wish to see any more of your fantasies,” professor Snape instructed. Snape clearly tried to provocate him, and to Harry’s great displeasure he succeeded in it easily. One mention of what he’d allowed to slip earlier and he immediately struggled to keep his thoughts away from it and similar incidents. It was torture, and Harry felt mentally exhausted when Snape for the final time withdrew with a disappointed ‘tsk’. “I hope that you have at least learned the price of slacking off with your studies,” Snape said as his parting words.

Harry stayed in the kitchen as Snape left. He listened idly to the muffled sounds of Malfoy and Snape talking before Snape finally left. Harry waited for Malfoy to come into the kitchen to mock him some more, but time passed and Malfoy never came. Before Harry could be actually accused of sulking, he gathered himself up and made a brave attempt at leaving the room without showing just how embarassing the whole session with Snape had been. One sight of Malfoy, however, and Harry felt the unease creep back in. Snape would never let him forget all the secrets he’d now spilled. For Malfoy’s sake, Harry hoped that Snape had bought his explanation that none of the memories was real. Otherwise, things would get truly awkward between them.

“I’m tired,” Harry said to deflect the questions that Malfoy had yet to ask, but clearly wanted to. He stood on the stairs and leaned to the handrail, he too looking too comfortable in what should’ve been _Harry’s_ new home. Harry pushed past him and headed straight towards his room. To his annoyance, Malfoy followed him. Harry turned around at his door and faced Malfoy.

“I never thought you were getting this level of special treatment. I wonder what the Daily Prophet would write about Dumbledore ordering his professors to teach his pet student even outside the school year,” Malfoy asked.

“I did not ask for any of this,” Harry replied. “And if you excuse me, I’ve had a horrible lessons and can’t really be bothered with you right now.” Harry waited for Malfoy to give up and leave, but the boy showed no signs of doing either.

Malfoy took his wand and pointed at Harry. He started with a spell and Harry yelped, trying to jump out of the way, but no spell hit him. Instead, the door he’d been standing in the front of unlocked itself and flew open, barely missing Harry as it did so. There was no warning when Malfoy crudely pushed Harry into his own room and then just as quickly closed the door behind them.

Harry stared at Malfoy, eyes wide, and then he heard the door lock itself with a loud click. “What-“ he started, but fell quiet as Malfoy lifted his hand to shush him. Malfoy then added a silencing spell around them – and Harry knew he’d have to pick up that spell sometime soon. Everyone around him was casting it nowadays.

“Who do you think would hear us in here?” Harry asked. “And more importantly, what are you doing?”

“You never know who’s listening,” Malfoy said like it explained everything. He walked past Harry further into the room. “You are practising occulemency with Snape, aren’t you? Come on, Potter. Save us some time and admit to it.”

There was no point in actually denying that Snape had used legilimency on him – Malfoy clearly knew something already. “Better than with you,” Harry said, trying to summon a defiant posture and tone.

“And so he’ll get access to everything that you’ve thought, more or less?” Malfoy asked.

“I’m not that bad!” Harry disagreed. The next words became nothing but a pained gasp as Malfoy threw him against the door with a spell, and then the thoughts that had been closest to the surface became the centre of Harry’s mind. Malfoy could read what he wanted with the same ease as Snape simply by distracting him with something first. Harry wanted to stop it, but he was helpless as the thoughts that he had wanted to keep private slipped from his grasp and became the only thing he could think of. _Snape knows about us. He saw the memories. He keeps taunting me with them and thinks now that I wanted all of it!_

Malfoy let the spell drop. Harry glared at him, waiting for him to start laughing. It took its time, but finally Malfoy smiled a sardonic little smile. “Well, that puts us in an awkward position, doesn’t it.”

“He has nothing on you,” Harry said. “He thinks all the images that you created were my... My fantasies.”

“Weren’t they?” Malfoy asked. His tone was too serious for the question but he didn’t give Harry the time to understand why before the spell hit him

and the room that Harry knew to be real and his, started twisting into something that Malfoy had conjured. Harry could only watch with dreadful certainty to where this was going. The worst was that he was so surrounded by the memories-thoughts-images that he couldn’t tell where the fiction began or maybe he didnt even want to anymore _._ The images of this room started _mixing up with ones that Harry had no recollection of. The room was bathing in hazy afternoon light, shadowy and always in soft movement. It felt unreal, dreamlike._

_And there the two of them were again. Malfoy was all angles and dark shadows as he stood backlighted by the light streaming from the windows. Harry stood just before him, reaching out, his hand passing through the rays of light to move a stray hair back to its place. Harry wasn’t hesitating this time. There was a tenderness but also a determination to his movements. It was fascinating to see this Harry move, like watching a puppet played by a masterful puppeteer. The movement was endless, non-stopping. Harry moved closer to Malfoy and there was nothing to stop him from kissing him. Malfoy’s lips were soft, unbelievably soft, and so he stole a small kiss after another. Harry’s fingers combed through Malfoy’s hair and their heads pressed closer together. It was an intimate moment that couldn’t be shared with anyone. Malfoy was smiling and Harry could feel a laughter building up within himself._

_This time, Malfoy wasn’t happy with just following Harry’s lead and being a still. He answered the kisses with more force every time and he had soon enough a hold of Harry’s head, holding Harry’s chin with his left hand and pushing him backwards with his right. Harry’s back hit the wall just so that the doorhandle hit his hip awkwardly. It hurt, but Harry didn’t want to fight the hold Malfoy had on him. Harry had his hands on Malfoy’s skin now, trailing downwards his spine and settling at the small of his back. Malfoy stopped and looked Harry in the eyes and Harry could feel his heart flutter, painfully. He could feel it down in his stomach and then all the way to his toes. Oh god. He was getting breathless without any exertion. Why did this feel so powerfully? He wanted to feel indifferent! He didn’t want to enjoy this._

It ended like a splash of cold water. It couldn’t have gone more than a heartbeat from the moment that Harry had been pushed to the door by Malfoy’s spell, but he needed to gasp for air when he shook himself free from the conjured memory. He stared at Malfoy, eyes wide and mouth parted. That image had been so much clearer than the previous ones. He’d lost all of his awareness for his surroundings this time and everything he’d heard – _the rasping of their breaths and the rustle of clothes_ – and smelled – _the closeness of another human being_ – and seen – _the imperfections of the skin and the particles in the light_ – and felt – _the silky quality of the hair and the_ _damp_ _kisses_ – had all been just too real. Had it been real? Was there something real to it?

“That’ll give Snape something to wander at the next time you fail at occulemency,” Malfoy said with a smirk. “Or are you going to claim that he won’t break through your defences?”

“That wasn’t funny!” Harry gasped. The fact that he still didn’t have his voice made Malfoy only smirk wider.

“Poor Potter does protest much,” Malfoy taunted. “Or maybe he’d disappointed that was all he gets. Imaginary thoughts and memories. Are you this desperate for any attention?”

“That was a real memory. You used a real memory as foundation,” Harry said as sudden inspiration hit him. This got a reaction from Malfoy. “That’s it, isn’t it? It felt too detailed. You used one of your own memories. Who are you trying to turn me into?” It made so much sense, and judging from Malfoy’s smirk dying and being replaced with a grimmer, forced grin, he’d been close.

“Not one step closer, Potter,” Malfoy snapped when Harry made a move towards him.

Harry knew that this would turn ugly whatever he did and he reached pre-emptively for his wand. Malfoy noticed this and the curse escaped his lips at the same time as Harry pulled the wand out. Whatever it was hit the wall and disappeared with a hiss as Harry hastily deflected it. However, the moment Harry turned to see the spell disappear, Malfoy hit him with another and he was swept out of his feet and landed painfully on his back.

He rolled to the side, and this time dodged the next curse, quickly stumbling back up to his feet. But in that one moment of inattention it took for him to find his bearings again, Malfoy managed to hit him again. This time Harry was cast again the wall of the room and the force of the impact made Harry let go of his wand. He heard it hit the floor somewhere, but he couldn’t say where because his eyes were glued on Malfoy, waiting on the next curse. Malfoy allowed Harry to wait, however. He prowled closer, arm outstretched and the wand firmly pointing at Harry’s chest.

“What are you doing?” Harry hissed.

“You were about to hex me. Maybe use legilimence on me,” Malfoy said. He stopped right in front of Harry, the wand almost poking Harry’s chest.

“I wasn’t!” Harry argued. “I haven’t cast a single spell at you. _You_ ambushed me with the vision.” None of this seemed to matter to Malfoy. He stood unmoved and Harry did not know what he would do next. Standing unarmed, back against a wall, in a silenced room made Harry thoroughly uncomfortable. He had to do something. Without waiting for a better opportunity, Harry reached out hoping to catch Malfoy wand and disarm him without a spell, but he grabbed Malfoy’s wrist instead and managed to make Malfoy lose his balance with a surprised yelp, pulling Harry with him.

They collided into the closest wall, this time with Malfoy his back against it and Harry the one locking him in place. Malfoy didn’t look up at him, and Harry couldn’t see his wand in his hand – he too must’ve lost it in the tumble. “Malfoy,” Harry said. “What is it?” There was clearly something that Malfoy wasn’t saying because nothing in what Harry had done should’ve made him this angry. However, now that Malfoy was without his wand he seemed to calm down. Oddly enough, Harry too was more dazed than angry. His back was hurting, and most disturbingly it made Harry think back to the memory Malfoy had given him, and that made his cheek start to burn up. Hopefully, Malfoy wouldn’t notice it.

Malfoy looked pointedly to the side. “Do you know what you are doing, Potter?” He looked at his arm and the wrist that Harry was still holding. The question gave Harry a pause and he just glanced at the wrist without letting go. “Let go!” Malfoy hissed and tugged at the arm weakly before he stopped struggling and let his head fall back against the wall with a pained sigh.

Harry realised he could feel Malfoy’s heartbeat. It was beating fast. How fast was his own heart beating? Harry knew his cheeks were burning – a mixture of freight, the memory and closeness. Oh. He hadn’t just thought that. He let go of Malfoy’s wrist before Malfoy would realise that he was close to trembling. As Harry quickly pushed himself away from the wall, he couldn’t help but stare at Malfoy. They’d never been this close and Harry didn’t know why, but wanted to reach out and touch Malfoy’s cheek. _He wanted to kiss him. He wanted it to be real. The image from before, it had felt real enough, but it would not be anything compared with the reality. How easy was it to just-_

Harry reached out to softly touch Malfoy’s cheek. Malfoy looked at him, his eyes betraying nothing, but his lips parting just slightly. He was tense at first, but it was almost like he melted after he understood what was happening. His arms came up and embraced Harry, pulling him closer. It was oddly tender before Malfoy’s hand sneaked up Harry’s back so that he could easily take a grip of Harry hair and forcibly make him tilt his head a bit. Harry was unfocused for a moment, unsure what happened, but when Malfoy kissed him

There were no words.

No. There were all too many words. Malfoy’s lips were soft. This made no sense, but it didn’t feel wrong. Harry was sure it should’ve felt completely wrong, but Harry didn’t know anything anymore. He couldn’t think. Malfoy had still not hexed him.  Malfoy was still kissing at him and then suddenly he pulled back and without warning bit down on Harry’s neck, trailing possessive kisses downwards, and Harry allowed himself just forget about things and get into the flow of it. When Malfoy finally looked up, they locked gazes – unmoving, challenging, certain now – and Harry kissed Malfoy. He’d already consented to this.

What Harry hadn’t expected was the gasp that Malfoy let when Harry withdrew a bit and broke the kiss. His lips were redder, hair just slightly out of place and Harry could just stare. Malfoy was changing right in front of his eyes. Away was the composed coolness. Instead, there was a coy smile and a warmth that pushed through the layers of clothing that they still had between them. Malfoy reached out with his hands and tugged at Harry's cardigan, pushing it open and making it drop from his shoulders. Uneasy with the feeling of being caught in it and being restricted in his movement, Harry helped it down on to the floor where it pooled at their feet. Malfoy didn’t hesitate before stepping right onto it to bring them close again. Not entirely sure how they were to move forward from this, Harry made a vague gesture at relieving Malfoy from his robe, but Malfoy caught his hand easily. He crouched briefly to pick up his wand instead and whispered a spell.

For a blink of an eye Harry thought he’d disappeared into one of the visions again since the whispered words that had no right to make his body react like this, but the moment passed and the familiar shelves of the room and the general disarray around them brought the real world back. Malfoy’s robe was nicely folded on the floor next them and he wore just a simple, if expertly tailored, shirt underneath. “I need to teach you a few spells,” Malfoy leaned closer and whispered. Harry shuddered without meaning to.

“Sorry for being used to actually doing these things myself,” Harry muttered.

“But you have to admit spells like this have their uses,” Malfoy said with a smile to his words. Without giving Harry a chance to prepare, Malfoy repeated the spell and this time pointed his wand towards Harry. Harry found his shirt unbuttoning itself and backed a few steps, trying somehow to shield himself. Malfoy laughed. Harry looked up. Malfoy was assessing him with his eyes, looking up and down on him. Harry blushed and could feel every muscle tense. He was unaccustomed with being stared like this; People stared him because he was Harry Potter and he had a distinctive scar. People - and especially not Malfoy! – didn’t care about how he looked like under the clothes.

Malfoy wasn’t satisfied with just looking though – he reached out and pulled Harry towards himself and then immediately helped his hands under Harry’s shirt, sliding his hands against Harry’s bare skin, making Harry shiver. Soon enough, almost without Harry realising how it happened, the shirt Harry was wearing found its way somewhere on the floor. Harry didn’t know where because Malfoy kissed him on the mouth, on the chin, on the collarbone, bit down on his shoulder, then slowly trailing slower down his chest. It was distracting enough, alright. As Malfoy reached the edge of Harry’s trousers, Harry let a breathless, “Ah.”

Malfoy looked up and Harry couldn’t breathe. Malfoy kneeled in front of him, asking. Maybe it was a small nod that Harry managed, but Malfoy smiled then with a wicked grin and Harry had to close his eyes. Oh god. Nerves on his skin tingled as Malfoy’s hands brushed his stomach and as Malfoy worked the trousers open, Harry could feel the cold air get to him. Nothing of this was anything compared to when Malfoy touched Harry’s cock through the fabric, drawing his hand upwards first, then sneaking under and getting to skin on skin contact.

“Malfoy, I-“ Harry couldn’t allow this to happen, but he was now truly powerless to stop it. All he could do was to not let his knees give up under him.

Malfoy did not stop. He kept stroking Harry’s cock, slowly picking up the pace, twisting at the head, then slowing down again, building up tension that was soon driving Harry mad. Malfoy had no right to make him shiver and shake like this, Harry thought, desperately trying to find a way to focus on something else. But his world was centred on the touch and on Malfoy, kneeling on the floor in front of him, turning what had been a game of dare, a game of imaginary visions into reality that Harry had never before thought he’d wanted.

He did want this now. He was painfully hard under Malfoy’s manipulation. With uncertain hands, he reached to touch Malfoy’s hair, brush it to the side. Malfoy looked up, unguarded and then, encouraged by the touch, Malfoy leaned in, keeping his eyes on Harry’s until the very last moment, and swallowed the tip of Harry’s cock. If the previous touch had felt unbearable, this new sensation was scorching hot. Harry let another breathless gasp and Malfoy took hold of Harry’s hips to prevent him from backing away. He licked along the length a few times and with one last suck, finally pulled the pressure over the tipping point. Knowing what was about to happen, Harry looked with his eyes wide as Malfoy pulled away and stroked the cock almost lazily one more time, holding the tip when Harry came.

Malfoy climbed up to his feet, picked his wand with his left hand and cast a cleaning spell. Harry looked up at the ceiling, trying to gather himself together. When he looked back down, Malfoy was calmly observing him. It was not right that Malfoy, who’d- It was not right that Malfoy could appear so composed even now.

“It’s all your fault. If you hadn’t started this competition of feeding those images. It was a stupid competition and nothing else. This was just a great misunderstanding,” Harry muttered, but even as he said the words, he knew that they had no power. They were not at all what he felt right now – satisfied, spent, confused, curious – but Harry could not find anything else to say. “We are not even friends! I don’t kiss people I don’t like,” Harry protested.

“You did kiss me,” Malfoy said and he grinned now. He was barking mad. That was it. Maybe Harry was mad as well or maybe Malfoy’s madness was the contagious sort.

“I don’t know why!”

“What’s the problem?” Malfoy asked. He had the audacity to look amused.

“What’s not the problem?” Harry said. “I don’t like you. You hate the people I call friends. You’ve done your best to make my life miserable the whole time we’ve known each other. I _don’t know_ what just happened.”

“I don’t have the answer to you.”

“It wasn’t your doing?” Harry asked. He only then realised that some part of him had hoped that everything had been just something that Malfoy had caused – maybe this had all been just an elaborate vision like all the others. But for once, Malfoy had seemed just as bewildered as Harry. “How can I trust you?”

Harry followed with his eyes as Malfoy looked around the room and then walked where Harry’s wand had fallen earlier. He picked it up and came back, offered it Harry. Harry took it. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I thought of a way to prove you that I’m not tricking you,” Malfoy said. He placed his own wand in his pocket and then reached to grab Harry’s hand and point the wand Harry was holding towards his own forehead. “You know what to do.”

Harry didn’t even hesitate before saying, “ _Legilimens.”_ It felt completely different this time. Malfoy didn’t put up any barriers. Harry was immediately surrounded by a bewildering sea of memories. He didn’t know where to focus and then-

Malfoy placed his hand on Harry’s cheek and Harry was almost catapulted out of the spell. For a moment, he could see Malfoy as he was standing in front of him, but then he allowed the memories and thoughts of Malfoy to take the foreground and he became blind to the real world. The thoughts became clearer and more focused, focused on Harry, focused on the touch they shared. It was a bewildering feeling. Harry couldn’t really tell apart what was him feeling Malfoy’s hand on his skin and what was Malfoy feeling his hand on Harry.

Since Harry had been blinded by the flood of memories, he didn’t get any warning before Malfoy moved closer, pushing Harry’s wand out of the way. The images around Harry flickered and for a moment he could see Malfoy reaching out and he could see where this was going – Malfoy’s thoughts were broadcasting his every intention and everything he was feeling and Harry was unable to stop it.

Malfoy kissed him again and Harry didn’t fight it. The spell held and Harry could see the conflicting emotions that Malfoy was feeling. He too was uncertain about this, but he also wanted it. _This was better than fighting._ Malfoy was gently pushing Harry backwards, towards the bed and Harry wasn’t fighting it. _Why couldn’t they do this? He had nothing binding him to anyone anymore. He was free and he was alone. He didn’t want to be alone. They’d learned to get along, hadn’t they? He’d really tried to behave. He’d done everything he could to repent. He’d helped save Black. He had even stopped calling Granger a mudblood. What was there from stopping this from happening? It was nice, wasn’t it?_

Harry let the spell drop and the shift in his world made him dizzy for a moment. He hit the edge of the bed, falling backwards. Malfoy followed, leaning over him, guiding them forward. Malfoy had sounded sincere. He’d given away a lot more than Harry had thought that Malfoy would freely give. Insecurity, uncertainty, feelings of desperate loneliness. Harry did feel more reassured. Yet, that could hardly solve all the other problems that he had with this-

“Potter, I don’t think you have the brain capacity to think and act at the same time,” Malfoy said. “Try to make up your mind. Either I’m going to obliviate you after hexing you from here to tomorrow for making me show you embarrassing things, or you can stop thinking.”

Harry just stared. Malfoy did not look angry. He wouldn’t, not really and then when Malfoy looked happy, Harry realised he liked the challenge that Malfoy presented. He had no problems admitting that to himself.

“Potter,” Malfoy said slowly.

“I’ll make Hermione find out what you did you did to me,” Harry said. He then took hold of Malfoy’s head and gently pulled him down to kiss him. He hardly controlled his limbs anymore and followed instead the lead by the fake memories they’d already created. They could have this one real one.

It was obvious that Malfoy knew what he was doing and Harry was just mimicking him, but Malfoy wasn’t complaining. Harry wasn’t complaining either. The feeling of being aroused had not left him despite Malfoy having stroked him off once, and the haze of it was turning sharper again now, almost painfully so. He craved the touch and wanted them to move faster. Harry’s hands trailed along Malfoy’s back, feeling the smooth skin like there had never been anything similar to it.

There was a short moment when they just looked at each other: Malfoy was flustered, his lips redder than normally and his smile reaching his eyes. Harry felt a fluttering pain in his stomach. Malfoy grinned almost as he knew what this was doing to Harry.

“ _Legilimens_ ,” Malfoy whispered as he leaned so close that he could whisper it directly to Harry’s ear followed by a bite. The word had hardly sounded like a spell and more like something sweet. “Cast the spell again, Potter.”

Harry did as told. He didn’t have his wand, but when he looked at Malfoy and said the words and it came easily again. This time, it was impossible to know who thought what. There was just images, feelings, whispers of thoughts, it was too much, but it was just about controllable and Harry knew it wasn’t he who kept it together. Everything was enhanced tenfold, as Harry moved his hand, he could feel a ghost hand moving on his own back. As Harry helped Malfoy out of his shirt, the world became freezing cold and he shivered. When Malfoy hugged him, he was warm again and when Malfoy kissed Harry again time seemed to stretch on.

Finally, Malfoy managed to pull Harry down on him and place a leg between Harry’s legs and press just right, making Harry saw light. The sensation must’ve been just as powerful for Malfoy because he moaned aloud. Harry reached down between them, feeling the hardness of Malfoy underneath his hand and almost in wonder stroked it through the pants he still wore.

“Potter,” Malfoy said. He sounded wonderfully out of breath. “I want you to fuck me.”

Harry flashed red and froze. He didn’t know how. This was too fast. He didn’t want to disappoint Malfoy, but he honestly did not know what to do next.

Malfoy reached to his wand that lay on the floor along with their discarded clothes. He moved in a languid pace, and looked satisfied already. He first cast a spell on himself and was suddenly completely naked underneath Harry and then with a second spell removed the last clothes Harry still had on himself, pants and a stray sock disappearing onto the far side of the room.

Next, Malfoy reached out to grab Harry’s hand and coated it with a slimy liquid that he conjured out of thin air. Harry stared at his hand. There were way too many spells involved here that Harry knew nothing about. It felt miraculous that Malfoy had the patience to watch Harry fumble this much, but then again, Malfoy did always seem to enjoy showing off. On cue, Malfoy cast legilimence again and Harry followed his example. Malfoy’s smug thoughts then proceeded to guide Harry with gentle nudges and images of what he wanted. 

Malfoy brought both their hands down between his legs, showing Harry where to press, where to apply the pressure and where to stretch. He leaned back, his thoughts telling Harry how overwhelming the feeling of the fingers moving within him was, how the anticipation made him arch his back, welcoming the increasing stretch and pulling Harry closer. Harry followed the guidance Malfoy provided him, not pausing to think because he feared he would break this spell they were under.

They reached a point when Malfoy felt ready. Harry pulled back and looked Malfoy laying on the bed in front of him. He was flustered, breathing heavy, looking at Harry with his eyes slightly unfocused. He looked comfortable, relaxed, and Harry felt warm at the thought. Malfoy pushed himself up and kissed Harry once more before without warning – maybe there had been in his thoughts and Harry had been too distracted – placed his hand on Harry’s cock, which was, once more, hard. “You know what to do”, Potter,” Malfoy teased as he stroked the cock once before laying back down again.

Harry did know what to do next because Malfoy’s thoughts displayed in graphical detail what he was looking forward to. Harry gave himself a one last stroke before he moved closer, half by his own accord, half pulled in by Malfoy, positioned himself right and pushed. Harry let a little whimper when all the sensations assaulted him at once. He could do no longer focus on keeping up the legilimence-spell, but he did not need it to know that Malfoy had nothing to complain about either.

Harry’s body found the rhythm even without guidance. Malfoy allowed him to set the pace and worked with it, his breaths growing shorter as time passed. Harry too felt himself picking up speed and then reaching a point where he could not continue any longer. Malfoy looked at him with clear eyes, vulnerable and relieved at the same time, and then silently came. Harry rolled his hips a few more times before pulling out, spent and drained. He looked down at Malfoy in wonder. Malfoy was smiling.

Before Harry's arms gave up, he rolled away from Malfoy, laying side by side with him on the bed. It took until he could feel his heartbeat return to a calm, even rhythm that he truly understood that the legilimens-spell had faded away and in its absence the world felt emptier. Malfoy managed to reach his wand and made a spell that left Harry feeling unnaturally fresh. It had obviously cleaned away the evidence of- Harry still couldn’t even think about this.

“Don’t panic, Potter,” Malfoy said.

“You can obliviate me now,” Harry groaned. He didn’t want to think. His body felt exhausted in a good way, but his mind was racing at thousand different directions at the same time.

“Really?” Malfoy asked. Harry had to turn his head to see if Malfoy had been sincere because he couldn’t tell by just his voice alone. Malfoy did look serious and Harry already regretted his words.

“I didn’t mean to say that I-” _Hated it._ He hadn’t. He had not known that he wanted it before they’d stumbled into it, but Harry had enjoyed himself. “It’s not that I want to forget about this, but it would be easier to.”

“There’s a lot that I’d like to forget,“ Malfoy replied, the mood now truly broken.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“I don’t especially like you, Potter. We can both just agree on that this was accidental, purely physical and there is no reason to take it up again,” Malfoy said. He was not looking at Harry as he spoke, but Harry was watching him. It was painfully clear that Malfoy had made a decision not to show any emotion on his face or in his voice. With a few careless words, Harry had chased away the Malfoy that had looked unguardedly happy. 

The worst part was, Malfoy had to be lying. Harry knew it hadn’t been just physical. Thanks to the legilimency-spell, he’d been aware of their emotions and there had been plenty of them. Most of it had been physical pleasure and wonder at the sensations, but there had also been a layer of uneasy, hesitating trust and hope and for a moment they could actually like each other.

Harry sat up. He couldn’t stay here. He as messing this all up, saying the wrong things because he did not know what he wanted. He had to get away. He had to think and he couldn’t do that anywhere near Malfoy, that had been definitely proven here. Harry got up, feeling shaky but not allowing himself to stop. Malfoy was immediately alert and Harry could hear him turn to look at him, but Harry didn’t look back. “I need to go,” Harry said. He picked his wand, called his clothes to him and dressed as fast as he could. He felt unsteady as he made his way to the door, unlocked it and stepped onto the hallway, but he made it.

Malfoy hadn’t made an effort to follow him. Harry realised this only when he was halfway down the stairs on the way to the kitchen. It… didn’t matter. Harry already felt bad about running like this, but if Malfoy could just let him go like this, he probably didn’t care either way. Slytherins probably didn’t expect pillow talk anyway. Expect that Harry didn’t want to be a Slytherin.

The kitchen was as it used to be, but it was cold and empty in a way that left Harry feeling disquiet. He walked to the fireplace and lighted it up even though it was still a warm day and there was no need for either light or warmth. With the fire licking the stones of the fireplace, Harry did feel a bit better. He sat down and stared at the flames. He needed to think.

xxx

Harry made it back to his room early in the morning. Malfoy had found his way out and Harry was happy not to have to talk with him just yet. He fell on the bed with his clothes on. He slept restlessly, but he was comforted by the knowledge that this time it was all because of himself and not Voldemort or anyone else messing with his mind. Well, not exactly true. None of this wouldn’t have happened if Malfoy hadn’t started toying with his mind with the fake memories

He’d allowed it, hadn’t he, Harry’s treasonous mind provided. He’d welcomed Malfoy and when given the chance to get rid of him, Harry done his best to keep him close.

That didn’t meant... He’d never thought of Malfoy like this. However, there was no denying of what had happened. Happened right on this bed. Harry groaned, embarrassed, wishing he could actually obliviate himself. At the time, he’d wanted to explore the feeling, wanted to push them past the faked memories, wanted to know how far they could go and how it would feel... Now, he was uncertain how to proceed from here.

Could he tell Malfoy that they could stay friends? _We are not friends._ Probably not. They’d moved too fast from their normal rivalry to the grudging tolerance to... To this. They could fall back to the uncomfortable truce until Malfoy found somewhere else to be, but Harry didn’t want that either. He hated the fact that he’d clearly hurt Malfoy when he’d made his cowardly escape last night. He couldn’t stand the idea that that would be the end of their weird not-quite-friendship.

And try as he might, he could not deny the fact that seeing Malfoy smile like that had done something to him.

There was a loud banging from the door. Harry buried his face in his hands. He was not ready to face anyone and especially not Malfoy. There was one more bang from the door before the it opened. Harry turned to look and was surprised to see that it was not Malfoy but Sirius.

“Good, you are already awake,” Sirius said. Harry sat up immediately. Sirius sounded agitated.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked, dreading the worst. Had someone been hurt? Died?

“There was an attack at the Ministry last night. We have an emergency meeting at the Burrow right now,” Sirius explained.

Harry didn’t need to be asked twice. He got up and when he realised he was already dressed, he simply followed Sirius out. Sirius seemed to be feeling much better: He made it downstairs with long strides and threw open the door to the kitchen on his way to the fireplace. Harry hurried after him, but a few steps into the kitchen he froze. Sirius was already reaching for the floo-powder, but Harry had been petrified by a simple look from Malfoy, who was sitting at the table, eating a simple breakfast like he did every morning.

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it when no words came out. Malfoy gave him a cold look that Harry couldn’t decipher. Then, Sirius turned around to look at Malfoy and the moment was broken.

“Don’t do anything while we are gone,” Sirius said. He then turned to Harry expectantly.

Harry had no time to hesitate. He gave one glance at Malfoy, hoping that it said ‘ _we’ll talk once I’m back_ ’ and stepped with Sirius into the fireplace that was immediately engulfed by green flames.

At the Burrow, a cacophony of voices met them. People were already arguing, some in angry whispers, some loudly. Harry looked through the crowd and felt relieved to see all the Weasley’s present as well as Remus and Tonks and Mad-Eye in one piece. Despite everything, Sirius’ arrival was met with happy greeting and smiles and while others were busy with welcoming him back, Harry made it to the kitchen where he found a discarded Daily Prophet.

 _The Missing Minster! The Minister of Magic abducted in the dead of night. Rufus Scrimgeour appointed as acting minister while the search for Cornelius Fudge continues._ The image accompanying the flashing headlines was of a destroyed office, chairs and side tables turned around, small decorative items that had probably sat on the mantelpiece of the great fireplace strewn on the ground and portraits slashed and askew. Harry read the article too, but was none the wiser afterwards.

Soon enough, they were all gathered around the table again. Ron and Hermione didn’t know anything Harry wouldn’t have been able to piece together: They’d all been taken by surprise.

“Dumbledore is busy talking with Scrimegeour,” Moody said as he stood up. “It’s up to us to figure out what happened.”

“We know what happened,” Tonks said. She sounded agitated and her hair flashed into a shade brighter. “We knew they’d be likely to try to get to Fudge. He’d never play along with them, not now that he saw them himself. We prepared for that by having an auror close by at all times!”

“And now?” Moody asked.

“Kingsley was standing right outside the door to the office,” Tonks said. “He was in there immediately when he heard a noise, but they were too quick. They must’ve found a way to break the protection we have against apparating within the ministry. They were gone the instance we were alerted.” She sounded angry and her hands were tight fists. It was clear to Harry that Tonks must blame herself even though there was no possible way she could’ve been at fault. They’d had one auror stationed by the minister, inside the Ministry. Harry knew from experience that the Ministry was far from secure, but how could’ve the Death Eaters gotten to the minister while he was at his office?

Harry reached again for the paper and looked at the image. The image had been taken from the door, looking towards the heavy desk placed in front of the windows. All the windows were closed and as Harry looked at the image closer, the damage seemed to concentrate on the other side of the desk. Had Fudge been sitting by his desk when he’d been surprised? The damage did seem to concentrate on the walls opposite the desk, which did support the theory. That meant-

“They must’ve used the floo-network to get in,” Harry said.

Ron looked sceptical, but both Remus and Moody looked thoughtful and Tonks nodded after a moment.

“They should not be able to get in to the Minister’s own office,” Remus said.

“It is locked to accept only a very limited amount of fire calls and destinations,” Tonks said. “But it is the best theory we have this far. We did look into it, but...”

“Did you already check the register for the recent activity for the fireplace?” Mr Weasley asked. He looked confident that the systems they had in place to oversee the magical world would provide the answer and Harry found himself hopeful when he turned to look the others.

Tonks looked uncomfortable. “If the fireplace was used, there was no trace of it,” she said. “No destination whatsoever. It looks like the floo network just vanished into thin air.”

A thoughtful silence fell.

“Why last night? Why go after Fudge when he was protected and at his own office?” Remus asked.

No-one offered an answer immediately. Harry thought back on what he knew. Yesterday, Remus had been reassigned to watch St Mungos because Mundungus had disappeared. Dumbledore had supposed to have a meeting with the Minister in tomorrow... Had it been important for Voldemort to stop that from happening? If so, how could he have known that the Order were planning to have the meeting in the first place?

He’d met Snape yesterday. Snape had gone through every memory he could possibly have found and must’ve found out about the meetings as well. Still, he was already a member of the Order and probably knew all about these things. But he wasn’t the only on to have gotten access to information through Harry.

Malfoy had had the perfect opportunity to go through Harry’s every thought yesterday.

No. Nothing made any sense. Harry felt like someone had scrambled through his mind and left him with unconnected pieces that didn’t fit together. In the past, Harry would’ve easily accused Malfoy at this point. Now he felt ashamed, uncertain. It was such a little detail... it couldn’t have mattered.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione turned to whisper. The meeting had broken into a loud discussion while Harry had been miles away and her whisper seemed to go unnoticed by the others.

Harry bit his lip. He didn’t want to lie to her about everything not being alright, but would he tell the truth he would need to let the other truths out as well. Somehow. His hesitation had been too clear, though, and she leaned closer, looking even more worried now.

“What is it?” she asked. This time, even Ron noticed something was up and turned to look the two of them.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said. He smiled apologisingly. He knew he’d been nowhere near convincing.

Hermione looked away at the meeting that seemed to go on even without them and then back at Harry. And almost like she had a sixth sense to notice the one thing that Harry wished she didn’t, she asked, “Is it about Malfoy?”

“It’s really nothing. I’ll sort it out myself. Me and Malfoy – we just. I need to ask him something. Make sure about one thing. Nothing to worry the meeting about, not yet.” There, he said everything that he felt like he could say. He looked away. He didn’t want Hermione seeing any more of his hesitation. He would confront Malfoy once they got back. It could be nothing.

The meeting concluded with more questions than answers and Harry found himself eager to return to the Grimmauld Place. They couldn’t act with the information they had now. For his part the only thing Harry could do was to make sure that Malfoy hadn’t had any opportunity to leak any of the information he could’ve gotten through Harry.

“We could come with you,” Ron said as Harry and Sirius were ready to move.

“Uhm,” Harry found himself hesitating, but Hermione jumped in.

“You seemed worried about something so we thought we could come in as backup,” she said. “Besides, I wouldn’t like to be alone when something like this is happening.”

Harry looked from his friends to Sirius who was now waiting for him. He had no good reason to say no, but at the same time, he knew Malfoy would clam up if he was outnumbered. Then there was the unfinished business from yesterday that Harry felt really uncomfortable about discussing when Ron or Hermione might overhear.

“I don’t mind,” Sirius said. “The more the merrier. We won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

There was no room to back away from the offer anymore. “Thanks,” Harry said and made sure to smile.

Sirius and Harry went first and stumbled into the empty kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Harry had half expected Malfoy to wait them right there, but the more he thought of it, the sillier it felt. Malfoy wouldn’t be eager to see Harry or the others. Hermione and Ron appeared and Harry grimaced when he knew nobody could see him. This was going to get difficult.

“I’ll go find Malfoy,” Harry said. Alone, went unsaid but both Hermione and Ron immediately picked up on it and didn’t argue. Harry hurried up the stairs, glanced at the library, but knew intuitively that Malfoy wouldn’t be there. At Malfoy’s door Harry paused. He felt... nervous. It was not the same kind of nervous he’d felt with Cho, definitely not, but it was definitely a new kind of reaction to having to speak with Malfoy.

“Malfoy?” Harry called, knocking a few times on the door. Barging in had never worked with them – except yesterday when Malfoy had... Not a line of thoughts Harry should be chasing now. There was no reply. Harry called again and then pushed the door open, hand on his wand, ready to face whatever hex Malfoy would find appropriate in this situation.

There was no hex.

There was no Malfoy, in fact.

Harry returned to the hallway and tried his room, the room with the portraits and then headed up to check rest of the rooms already knowing the answer. When he returned back down, Hermione caught sight of him and Harry knew that at that moment she knew too. Yet, it was only when she said it aloud that Harry felt a heavy weight press down on him and glue him to the spot.

“Malfoy’s gone.”

Sirius, Ron and Hermione went through the same rooms that Harry had already looked into. They too came empty handed.

“He waited for the first moment when he was alone and then left,” Ron said. He sounded astonished, and angry. Harry couldn’t make himself feel the anger. He probably should’ve, but all he could think of was what if they had it all wrong. There really wasn’t a reason for Malfoy to leave Grimmauld Place. He’d been conscious about the danger that waited for him outside in the world: surely Malfoy had known that the protection this place offered covered only what was within these four walls? And if he’d known, what had prompted Malfoy to put himself in danger? Had he done it knowingly? Had he wanted to leave?

How much of all of this was Harry’s fault?

“What are we going to do?” Ron asked. Harry looked up to see the determination that Ron had mustered. This was not about just Malfoy, Harry knew that, but it was painfully clear that rescuing Malfoy was a big part of what they were probably going to do. And Ron was going to do his best to help out, no matter that it was about Malfoy. It was so weird, Harry thought. Why was _he_ uncertain about wanting to help Malfoy? He’d had no problems playing friends with Malfoy these past few weeks.

“What if getting Draco Malfoy here was the plan?” Hermione asked.

Harry stared at her, eyes wide. Others were also surprised, but clearly thought about what Hermione had said.

“Would they be able to plan that far? There was no way anyone would’ve known beforehand that Dumbledore decided to protect Malfoy here,” Ron said.

“But that might not be even necessary. We are a bunch of sentimental idiots from time to time,” Sirius grumbled. “One of us was bound to pick a stray like Malfoy up at some point.”

“Doesn’t seem like a good plan to get anything done,” Ron said.

“Malfoy was… very eager to actually get along with us,” Hermione said. She sounded a bit uncertain and looked at Harry for support. Harry couldn’t really give any – he was caught in the horror that it was bound to get out now how many opportunities for spying he’d actually given to Malfoy. There were many things that didn’t add up. Malfoy _must’ve_ had an ulterior motive behind his behaviour – not just the… odd things, but the way that he’d reeled back his animosity and had tried to get along with them. He had agreed to teach Harry out of nowhere. Harry should’ve searched for the real reason Malfoy wanted to help him, but he’d been too annoyed by the Order dismissing him back then and he’d-

“He didn’t feel like himself,” Ron said.

“This is idle speculation that won’t get us far. The boy is not here now. I need to get back before everyone has time to leave. You three, stay here in case he comes back,” Sirius said. He turned to look at Harry and for a moment Harry imagined guilt there. Malfoy had been Sirius responsibility at first, but it had become Harry’s as Sirius got weaker. Now, they both had failed. “Be on your guard,” Sirius added and left them standing in the hallway.

For a moment, none of them found the words. The Grimmauld Place felt emptier than it had felt for weeks as Harry looked around, hoping that they’d somehow missed Malfoy standing in a shadow.

“I wonder where he’s gone,” Hermione said and then it was quiet once more.

xxx

The following morning, they received some answers. It was hard to miss them since they made front page of the Prophet, and Harry steam with anger.

_Fleeing, fearing for his life – read the exclusive story of the weeks in hiding!_

The title was accompanied with a picture of Lucius Malfoy, looking worse than Harry had ever imagined him to dare to look in front of people. It wasn’t that he looked all that beaten up or even like he’d had to stay somewhere not to his exclusive tastes these last weeks. His hair was just not perfectly styled, and his clothes had some wrinkles on them. He was smiling, and that smile was what made Harry so angry. Lucius Malfoy was waking up from the dead and turning it into a publicity stunt where he and his family were the victims. And the reporter was just lapping up it all, painting them as the sympathetic martyrs of unjust –attempted – execution.

_“The worst part of this all,” Lucius Malfoy told us with his voice quivering, “was being separated of our son, Draco. We had no means of contacting him, and every waking moment we knew that whoever had come after us might try to get to him as well.”_

_Not likely,_ though Harry. This was probably just Lucius Malfoy cleaning up the mess that was losing Malfoy in the first place. It was Draco disappearing that had caused this mess, surely. Shouldn’t Lucius be furious at his son for running like that? And yet here he was, playing the doting father. As Harry was about to turn to the next page of vile lies and pure emotional manipulation of the unknowing public, one line caught his eyes. Paraphrased by the reporter, it had not stood out immediately.

_“Who these unknown assailants are, we do not know. They left the young Mr Malfoy with no memory of the past weeks.”_

No memory? Could it mean... Had Malfoy obliviated the last weeks away? Harry couldn’t get his mind around it. He turned the page, and sure enough, found a small picture of Malfoy standing with his parents. Malfoy stood still, but when he looked up from the page, he looked so confused that Harry wanted to comfort him, screw all the doubts he’d had just the moment before. Harry felt hollow. It had hardly been a day since he’d said that he wanted to forget all that had transpired between him and Malfoy. Now he knew that he really hadn’t meant what he’d said. It _wouldn’t_ be easier to forget everything. He didn’t know what he felt, but now he could never discuss any of what had happened with Malfoy, and he hated the thought.

Harry pushed the paper away. He’d been confused, angry, and now he was uncertain what he wanted. He’d not wanted Malfoy here in the first place but now thath Malfoy was gone, it felt like their time together had been cut short. Harry felt more lost than he’d ever been. He needed to figure out what it was that had happened. He needed to know why Malfoy had left, and how he’d ended up with no memories of the summer. Harry needed to talk to Malfoy.

However, it didn’t look like he would get an opportunity to do so any time soon.


	11. Mistakes

The train left the Platform 9 and ¾ on time and was now travelling in a cloud of smoke, rushing past forests and fields. Harry, Ron and Hermione had managed to find themselves a compartment early on and most of their friends had already had time to stop by and tell briefly about their summer. There was just one person that Harry hadn’t seen even a glimpse of and he struggled not to look up whenever someone walked past and then feel disappointed. Having had several weeks between the weird start of the summer and this day had really not helped. Although the beginning of the summer now felt like a fever dream, Harry had never been as anxious to meet Malfoy again.

Ron and Hermione provided the much-needed sense of normalcy by not sharing Harry’s mixed emotions. Ron was checking through the list of items they needed for the year and Hermione was already creating a study plan for herself. Ron noticed Harry watching them silently and grinned at him. “Sixth year,” Ron mused. “I can’t wait for the apparition classes.”

“You still can’t do any apparition before you are seventeen,” Hermione reminded him, but she too seemed excited. “I hope the. N.E.W.T-level classes are of a high quality.”

“I look forward to the free time I get to have for not working towards that many N.E.W.Ts,” Ron said, nodding towards the list that Hermione was holding in her hand. She just huffed, knowing well that Ron had meant it as a compliment. Kind of. Harry did look forward to most of his classes, but he really dreaded the occulemency lessons he would have with Snape. Snape had showed up a few times during the summer, but none of their lessons had been productive.  Harry knew that there would be more of Professor Snape and his disappointment in store in the months to come.

“So, Harry, what are you going to do now that you’re the Quidditch captain?” Ron asked, getting away from the subject of studying. However, just when Harry was about to answer he finally saw Draco Malfoy pass by their compartment, and curiously enough, he was not followed by his bodyguards. Harry stared although Malfoy didn’t linger, didn’t even glance at their direction.

It was Hermione who spoke first. “I wonder if he’s okay,” she said.

“Judging from the Prophet, the Malfoys have milked everything from the fire and being on the run,” Ron said with obvious disgust. The farce that had first played on the front pages and then pushed to smaller notices as time passed had grown tiresome, and made the Order worried. They simply couldn’t get what game the Malfoys were playing.

“I wonder why he was walking alone,” Harry said.

“I guess whatever it was that the Malfoys were up to backfired,” Ron said. “That can’t make them all that popular among the Death Eaters. Or their kids.” It was a grim thought, but there wasn’t any evidence against the theory either. “It’s not our problem anymore, though. Malfoy didn’t want our protection, did he? He was out the moment he could.”

“It’s going to be weird to see him in the hallways though. It feels like I know more about him than I ever needed to know now,” Harry said carefully. He’d not said a word of what had happened between the two of them. For all he knew, he was the only one who remembered any of it now.

“He doesn’t seem to remember any of what happened,” Hermione said, echoing Harry’s thoughts. She looked uneasy. “Making people forget stuff like that just isn’t natural.”

“It’s done all the time,” Ron said. “Every time there’s a magical incident. It’s a routine with the things dad works with.”

“I know,” Hermione snapped. She turned her attention back to her list of the classes she would be taking. Harry watched her a moment, but knew that he couldn’t let go as easily.

“I need to go and talk to him,” Harry said. He got up before he could be stopped by either Ron or Hermione. He shouldn’t have worried.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Ron asked.

“What do you think he can do in a train full of students?” Harry asked and Ron shrugged. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

Harry made his way down the hallway, greeting friends he came across, but pushed forward as politely as he could. Malfoy had already disappeared from sight and Harry had to look into each of the compartments he passed to find out where he’d gone. It wasn’t too tasking; most people had left the windows unblocked and their door ajar.

Harry found Malfoy in a compartment far down the train. Malfoy didn’t see him at first as he was watching out of the window, but Harry’s reflection in the glass betrayed him as he reached for the door. Malfoy was immediately alert and he had his wand in hand. Harry decided to open the door anyway but he didn’t close it to make a quick retreat possible.

“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy asked. He sounded annoyed. He didn’t lower his wand.

“I. Uh. I saw you walking alone and thought I’d check if everything is alright. After the summer,” Harry said. He hadn’t expected for the words to be so difficult to get out.

“Get lost, Potter,” Malfoy replied. He stared Harry down easily. It was painfully clear where the two of them stood. The summer hadn’t happened. Harry tried to find something to say, but had to give up. Without the summer, he and Malfoy had nothing to talk about. Harry backed out of the compartment and closed the door without a word. He was above letting this get to him, but he was happy that he needed to walk a moment before he would get back to Ron and Hermione.

xxx

During the first week back, Harry only saw short glimpses of Malfoy. Whenever they shared a class – as the case was unexpectedly with Slughorn’s N.E.W.T-level potions where both Harry and Ron had gotten in – they didn’t speak. That was just fine. It was just him and Malfoy returning to normal – making snide comments and getting the Slytherins to laugh at Harry’s blunders. Nothing had changed even if Malfoy now walked with fewer friends around himself and could sometimes be seen walking all alone.

Then, life became deceivingly normal for a few weeks. Classes started demanding more and more of their time, and preparing for the first Quidditch game of the year made it impossible for Harry to worry about other things. However, slowly, the letters from Sirius told less and less about what was happening with the Order and started getting scarcer. The Order was stretched thin – or that was what Harry read when Sirius wrote that he wouldn’t be writing any more letters in a while, because there were too many friends who needed help. Harry looked up from the letter and saw that both Ron and Hermione had already noticed that something was wrong. Harry handed over the letter and watched as their smiles turn grim as well.

“There hasn’t been anything big in the papers recently,” Hermione said quietly as not to attract the attention of the others eating breakfast.

“Prophet rarely writes about the things that Order battles with,” Harry said. “I wish there was something I could do to help them. It sounds like something bigger is about to happen. They still haven’t said a word about Fudge.”

They’d had no leads to follow and the trail left by the attack at the Ministry had turned cold long ago. Whoever had been responsible for it and the attack at St Mungo had disappeared as far as Harry knew. Even the fire that had burned down Malfoy Manor was still unsolved. Yet, there was nothing Harry could do while away at Hogwarts. Harry reached across the table to fill his plate and as he did so, he could see the doors to the Great Hall open to let Malfoy in. Malfoy walked like there was nothing around him, not meeting anyone’s eyes, not caring about the obvious stares he was getting from the Slytherin table.

Harry paused.

He _had_ a way to help out from here, within Hogwarts. He’d allowed himself to be distracted and he’d shied away from a confrontation because he’d not know what to do. In doing so, he had let the Order down. It was obvious that Lucius Malfoy was up to his neck in whatever it was that the Death Eaters were planning, but ever since the miraculous survival of his family, he’d kept his distance to everyone. It would be valuable to know what was happening behind the stories that they’d fed to the Prophet, and Harry had an opportunity to find out which the rest of the Order did not. The key to it all was Draco Malfoy and getting his memories back. Now Malfoy was more valuable than ever: He’d most likely been surrounded by Death Eaters the whole of the summer and he could carry invaluable information. If Harry could just convince him to co-operate once again…

Harry detailed his plan – as much there was one – to Ron and Hermione the next time they found themselves walking alone towards Gryffindor Tower. “We managed to get along during the summer. I think I can convince him to trust me again,” Harry said.

Ron looked sceptical. “Don’t you think the situation is completely different now? Back then he had a reason to be nice. He clearly doesn’t have one anymore.”

“I need to try,” Harry replied.

The following days, Harry started looking for a moment when he could corner Malfoy. It wasn’t easy. Between Harry’s own classes and the Quidditch practises Harry didn’t really have time over. Malfoy didn’t just wander in the hallways to be ambushed and it got painfully clear to Harry that he would never just get lucky enough to find Malfoy alone. He needed to work for the moment. He made it a habit to check the Marauder’s Map daily and after searching for his moment for two weeks, he finally found it late one night when all the older students were busy getting their essays written and Harry had closed himself in the dorm room, the curtains drawn around his bed to give him some peace and quiet with the potions book. His mind was already wandering and his focus faltering. He’d reached for the Marauder’s Map as a distraction. He’d looked for the dot labelled Draco Malfoy among the Slytherins, but couldn’t find him there – curious about that, he searched more. After a while he did find Malfoy and without a moment’s hesitation got up, hiding the map quickly between the pages of the potions book. Malfoy was _alone_ , wandering the higher floors of Hogwarts. It was so late that it was unlikely that someone would interrupt them if Harry managed to find Malfoy.

He muttered something about needing a walk to clear his mind and escaped the Gryffindor common room without questions asked. He would fill Ron and Hermione in on his plans after scouting out what it was he was throwing himself into. Getting up the stairs took him no time at all, and finding Malfoy was almost too easy. Harry turned around the corner on the seventh floor, and there Malfoy was, pacing at the end of the corridor. Something was making Malfoy uneasy. He was obviously on high alert and was immediately aware of Harry when he appeared at the end of the hallway. Malfoy paused almost mid-stride and stared at Harry, visibly tensing. He looked ready to bolt and Harry picked up speed, almost running, wanting to make sure that Malfoy would not get away this time. Malfoy took only a few steps back in the time it took Harry to reach him, something making him hesitate.

“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy snarled when Harry slowed down. Malfoy’s right hand was frozen over the pocket where he kept his wand.

“I know you like to pretend that the summer didn’t happen,” Harry said, paused to take a moment to still his breathing, and was interrupted by Malfoy before he got any further.

“Why would I pretend?” Malfoy asked. “Although you clearly have cherished memories from that time, I do not.”

“I know. I _know_ ,” Harry said. “The thing is… I need you to get your memories back.”

“I’ve already met with very experienced healers that were unable to help me recall more,” Malfoy said and his words were cold and their implication clear. Harry felt like he’d struck gold. Of course, Lucius Malfoy had wanted to break through the obliviate to get to the information that Malfoy must’ve obtained during the weeks when he’d been sheltered by the order. And most importantly, Malfoy did not seem too happy about it. This gave Harry something to gamble with.

“Were the healers chosen by your father?” Harry pushed, looking closely for Malfoy’s reaction.

“Naturally, it was very worrisome for my parents that I’d been abducted for several weeks, but couldn’t recall what had happened,” Malfoy replied. His tone was polite if cold, and his expression didn’t change a bit.

Harry fought back a smile. Malfoy could’ve just not replied at all – he could’ve walked away. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t turned Harry down yet and was now waiting Harry to say something. Malfoy raised an eyebrow as Harry stayed silent. “What do you want?” he then asked.

Harry had not expected Malfoy to flat out ask, but there was no point trying hide why. It was transparent enough already. “I need to know what you know about your father’s plans,” Harry said.

“Here I thought you would offer help with my memories out of the good of your heart,” Malfoy mocked.

“I like to think that working with me presents a better option than having your father send more memory experts for you,” Harry said.

“My father does only what is best for me,” Malfoy said without missing a beat.

“We both know that’s not true,” Harry said. “It doesn’t look like you’re a very popular person right now. The stories your father has been telling to the Prophet cannot make you filled with joy.”

“Potter, you have nothing to offer me,” Malfoy said, stepping closer to intimidate Harry off.

“I like to think I do,” Harry said, but before he could explain what he had in mind, there was a broken, ugly meow. Harry spun around, immediately recognising the silhouette of Mrs Norris. Harry turned to look at Malfoy just as he turned his head towards Harry.

“Filch cannot be far behind,” Malfoy said.

Harry felt his heart beat fast, but as he allowed his gaze glide just a bit left of Malfoy where he saw was the tapestry with the dancing trolls – and when he spun around he knew that the door that might-or-might not have been there right before was the one that lead to the Room of Requirement. Not thinking twice now, he took hold of Malfoy’s arm, threw the door open and pushed Malfoy in before closing the door. There was a loud click, then silence.

The room was dark and as Harry reached out with his hand he immediately felt some shelves that carried various things on them. It was impossible to tell what they were in the darkness and Harry wasn’t all that eager to find out either. He tried to find his way forward only to find a new wall again. Malfoy let a pained sigh and Harry knew he was standing right next to him. The room was tiny, extremely so.

“Potter, where did you lock us in?” Malfoy asked. He kept his voice down to a whisper.

“I- I think it’s a closet,” Harry replied. He knew he didn’t need to whisper – he had wished for a safe place for them to talk and hide in. The room of requirement had delivered. There was no way someone could hear them from the outside.

“Why a closet?” Malfoy said. When Harry failed to reply, he added, “I know the room could’ve given us anything and you asked for a closet.”

Harry bit his lip. He was not going to share his theory about the reason why the room had turned into a closet. He was not about to share anything his life, the Dursleys or his little hiding place under the stairs, where he’d, despite everything, felt safe.

Harry turned to look where he thought Malfoy was standing. He reached through the darkness and managed to find Malfoy’s shoulder, trying to hold onto him to help with the disorientation the darkness was causing. Malfoy withdrew from his touch and after some rustle, conjured a light with his wand. He looked angry, but he hadn’t yet hexed Harry. They stared at each other. Even though Malfoy had moved back to escape Harry's touch, he was still easily within reaching distance; It wasn't just a closet, it was the most claustrophobic closet that Harry had ever had the pleasure of being locked in. Malfoy moved uneasily, looking at the door to find an escape, and as he did so, Harry thought he saw familiar vulnerability he'd thought forever gone with the memories.

It was a thought that existed clearly in his mind only for a blink of the eye, and was then gone. Harry knew better than to get caught by it, but it lingered _right there_ in his subconscious. He stepped closer to Malfoy who tensed immediately. There wouldn’t be so many stories about people getting shocked back to their senses if there wasn’t an ounce of truth to it, would there? Harry reached out and placed his hands on Malfoy’s cheeks to keep him from pulling away - and kissed him.

The first breathless moment felt like the many dreams they had conjured during the summer. Harry _knew_ he’d been the one to initiate the kiss this time, but he couldn’t be sure that any of this was real. He would’ve never done this before the summer, but now… He hadn’t hesitated. However, beyond the initial shock, nothing felt quite right now. Malfoy… wasn’t returning the kiss. Harry drew back immediately when he realised that Malfoy was drawn tight, ready to strike-

He was not fast enough. He hit the shelf behind himself with a pained gasp. The hex that Malfoy had hit him stung and the pain was blindingly hot for a moment, and then whatever had stood on the shelves started falling over. Malfoy didn’t spare any thought on Harry. He’d turned towards the door and was trying to spell it open. Sparks illuminated the room momentarily. The lock held, and the door didn’t budge.

“What are you playing at?” Malfoy snarled and turned to look at Harry, still down on the floor.

“It didn’t work then,” Harry muttered. He got back up to his feet because he didn’t fancy giving Malfoy any more opportunities to look down on him than he had to. It had been a stupid idea. That much Harry could figure out even by himself.

“Work how? Are we still talking about my memories?” Malfoy asked. He sounded disgusted.

“Malfoy,” Harry said calmly although it was more about keeping himself from panicking than to convince Malfoy. “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I just need you to remember and I was hoping that I could jolt your memories.”

Malfoy backed as far as he could in the small space and crossed his arms. The only light was still coming from the tip of his wand, casting weird shadows. It was still clear as day that Malfoy wasn’t convinced. “Trust me, Potter, I don’t fancy you.”

“It was complicated,” Harry muttered, but Malfoy wasn’t done yet.

“I don’t think whatever you are hoping for is going to happen, Potter,” Malfoy said coldly. “If the only way you dare to talk to me is by locking me into a closet, I don’t see much hope for anything.”

Harry groaned. “Can we just forget that? It was stupid. Probably just a… muggle-belief.”

“Muggles believe what now?” Malfoy demanded to know, clearly just waiting for ammunition.

Harry felt himself turn red, but he forces himself through it anyway. It was he who’d taken this subject up, he would either have to go through it or have Malfoy draw his own – most likely weirder, if even possible right now – conclusions. “There’s a lot of stories where people remember what they’ve lost after they’ve been kissed by their-“ Harry swallowed. He couldn’t continue any longer. “It’s a thing I grew up with. Some people think that a kiss might undo magical damage.” Just a kiss was usually enough. The true-love part was just romantic fluff on top of it. Most likely. He’d have to ask Hermione if some spells really needed true-love to work out, or if the concept of true-love even was something wizards believed in.

“Really,” Malfoy said. He couldn’t have sounded less impressed if he’d tried. “Nice work, Potter. Throw some muggle nonsense at me to cure me. Unlock the door now and I can refrain from killing you on the spot.”

Harry bit his lip. He’d been a complete fool, obviously. The question was if there was something he could do to save the situation - and then he heard the door unlock. Both of them turned to look at the door. Neither of them had moved. It was as if the room itself had decided that the situation had ended. Malfoy didn’t wait a second. He was out of the room, disappearing down the hallway. The door closed itself slowly after Malfoy and Harry was swallowed by the darkness again. Harry sat down and groaned aloud. He couldn’t have done a worse job of approaching Malfoy if he’d tried to.


	12. Lies

Harry managed to sneak back to bed without anyone asking him any uncomfortable questions. He could still feel himself blushing fiercely every time he thought about what had happened, and then the painful embarrassment set in. He had to speak with Malfoy again to set things right, but he wasn’t sure how he’d get Malfoy’s co-operation. He’d barely had it tonight and after what had happened – Harry couldn’t blame Malfoy if he’d hex on sight next time. Hermione and Ron might have some ideas, Harry knew that, but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask them for help before he’d sorted out the mess he’d created. After that, he’d be wiser and approach Malfoy only with Hermione and Ron on his side.

Getting to the Great Hall the following morning was an exercise in controlling a full blown panic. The thought had come to him early in the morning after a few restless hours of twisting and turning in bed: Malfoy would tell everyone. Why wouldn’t he? Telling about what had happened would be an easy way to humiliate Harry, and Malfoy was bound to be vicious after _that_. Harry couldn’t even breathe as he opened the doors to the Great Hall, but the relief hit him immediately. There was no laughter. No-one was staring at him. No-one knew. After making it all the way to the Gryffindor table, Harry dared to look around and confirm what he’d almost guessed already: Malfoy wasn’t in there. He’d either eaten early or would appear any minute now. Harry didn’t want to stick around to wait for him to appear so he gobbled down his breakfast and lied to Hermione and Ron about having forgotten his essay only to get an excuse to get away.

Avoiding Malfoy was a lot easier than finding a time and place to confront him, Harry got to learn during the day. Malfoy was there during lunch, but he was a small dot on the other side of the room and Harry could sit his back to him. They shared almost no classes, they never passed in the hallways between them and they lived on the opposite sides of Hogwarts. The only problem Harry didn’t know how to solve was the shared Potions class that was the last lecture of the day. Potions class was where Malfoy always found opportunities to take a jab at Harry. What would he do now that he had some real ammunition to use?

Having Ron to accompany him to the dungeons was oddly non-comforting today. Harry didn’t want anyone to know what had happened and that most definitely included Ron. Harry felt already bad about keeping so many things from Ron and Hermione – Harry _knew_ he should’ve shared what had happened during the summer already. He wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d done that. Working himself into a state of paranoia again, Harry managed to zone out completely and the class had already started before he woke up to Ron hitting him with his elbow. Harry blinked and looked around, confused. No-one seemed to be looking at him and so he turned to see what it was that Ron had wanted him to react to.

“You looked like you were falling to sleep,” Ron whispered. “I don’t blame you.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered. “I didn’t sleep all that well.”

“Just be happy that Slughorn isn’t Snape,” Ron said and grinned a little. He then quickly turned his attention to his book and pretended to focus. Slughorn’s gaze passed them without stopping.  Harry followed Slughorn’s path through the class and wished he hadn’t when his eyes landed on Malfoy. Malfoy was looking right back at him and there was no way of escaping the fact that they’d just acknowledged each other’s presence. Harry took Ron’s example and stared down at his book, waiting for the inevitable.

Malfoy didn’t say anything. In fact, no-one said anything for a long while and the classroom was filled with the sound of people furiously making notes. Ron was also copying a page from the book – the ingredients for Guaranteed Pleasant Dreams potion. Harry looked through the instructions and really hoped this would be one of the theoretical potions that they wouldn’t actually need to brew themselves. Having missed practically all of the lecture this far, Harry could hardly decipher what the page said.

Then it was over. If Malfoy had said anything, Harry was happily oblivious about it. The class had gone well; Harry hadn’t learned anything, but he had kept himself from attracting attention. Ron looked slightly worried, but seemed to let it go when Harry muttered again something about being tired. Harry turned to get his books and tried to be fast about it so that he would get away from the dungeons before Malfoy and his group could do the same. Meeting in the hallways outside was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. It was when he had his back turned to the hallway that someone bumped, purposefully, into him. Harry span around and saw Pansy Parkinson sneering at him.

“Oh, I’m so not sorry,” she said and kept walking. Harry could just stare after her.

“What was that about?” Ron asked.

“If I only knew,” Harry replied. He took his book and placed it in his bag which was when he noticed a piece of paper that had made its way there. Harry took it out, discretely, and opened it up. The handwriting was anonymous, but the message wasn’t.

_Same place, same time, tonight._

Harry quickly pushed the paper to the bottom of his bag. Ron didn’t seem to be any wiser, and Harry was grateful. This was definitely something he wanted to deal on his own.

Harry had convinced himself that his was an elaborate plan to make him do something stupid and back again. He had this far not come up with any reason for Malfoy to initiate this meeting, and yet he had. Pansy had acted messenger because Malfoy didn’t want them to be seen talking. Did this mean that Pansy knew something? The message itself wasn’t dangerous. It revealed nothing besides the fact that they’d met earlier. No, she probably didn’t know anything because if she’d known, she wouldn’t have kept her mouth shut about it. Or maybe all of slytherin knew already and Harry was walking into a trap.

Still, Harry wasn’t going to back down. He needed to speak with Malfoy. Did it really matter that much why Malfoy wanted to speak with him? It did. It really did, but he didn’t have the luxury to rethink this now.

Harry didn’t even make excuses that night. He simply never returned to the common room after the Qudditch practise and headed up to the seventh floor an hour before the time. He wanted to scout ahead to make sure he wasn’t walking into a trap but he also wished to be the one to find the Room of Requirements first. If he was the one that needed the room, it would be more to his liking. He found the seventh-floor hallway empty and after pacing back and forth for a while he managed to get the door to appear. When he opened it, he didn’t know what to think when it turned out to be pretty much the same closet.

“You really do like cramped places,” Malfoy said. His voice carried a dry amusement that took Harry almost with as much surprise as Malfoy’s sudden appearance. “Or only understand simple instructions.”

Harry almost let go of the door as he turned around. Malfoy was alone, and as far as Harry could see there was no-one just around the corner either. That meant hardly anything. Malfoy could’ve had the whole of slytherin just waiting for his word within hearing distance.

“Let go of the door and wish for something better,” Malfoy said. When Harry just blinked in confusion, he stepped closer and took the door from Harry, helping it shut. “If you close the door and think of something better, the room will deliver.”

“Why did you want to meet?” Harry asked. He had to fight to keep himself from blushing now and did an admirable job at it. Malfoy, however, didn’t feel like talking. Yet.

“Let’s get to a place where we cannot be eavesdropped, shall we, Potter?” Malfoy said and opened the door to reveal – a closet.

Harry let go of the breath he hadn’t been consciously holding back. “The room seems to have a sense of humour,” Harry said, feeling relief washing over him. It felt good to see that Malfoy didn’t control the situation completely.

Malfoy didn’t even glance at Harry. He took his wand out and created a small light that started hopping in the air just above their heads. With some guiding of his wand, Malfoy managed to get the light to float into the room. Harry got the hint and walked in first, turning immediately his back to the wall and keeping Malfoy in his sight at all times. Malfoy did nothing suspicious and stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself.

The room was just as small as it had been yesterday, and it was a thousand times more awkward to stand there after what had happened. The little light made everything actually worse – now Harry had to acknowledge that they were within an arm’s length of each other, and there was no place to run to.

“So. Uhm. Malfoy? What is it that you want to talk about? I got the impression that I fucked up everything beyond repair.”

Malfoy’s answer was to push Harry against the wall and pin him there with a hand placed on his chest. Harry didn’t even think about resisting. He just stood there, hands at his sides, pinned to the wall by the soft touch. He could only stare back, paralysed, confused. And Malfoy… Malfoy looked determined and yet, there was a moment when he seemed to hesitate before he moved closer, too close for Harry to focus on him anymore, and then _he_ kissed Harry. The hesitation was gone and now Malfoy was a warm presence pressing against him, a hand clawing deeper into his chest as in desperation. A leg was pressing against him just right and Harry shuddered and moved so much that the kiss broke. Malfoy pushed himself just a bit of Harry, but never broke the connection completely.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, weakly. He tried to not let Malfoy see that he had to catch his breath.

“Having second thoughts?” Malfoy asked, smile turning into an overly self-confident smirk.

“Malfoy, you don’t even like me!”

“Apparently, there’s something that I _did_ like about you,” Malfoy said in all seriousness. “I remembered something thanks to the stupid muggle thing you did. I’m going to admit it just this once so treasure the moment, Potter.”

“Remember what?” Harry said. He was afraid his voice would betray him before he got the words out.

At Harry’s hesitation, Malfoy suddenly took a step backwards. “Has something changed since summer?”

Harry felt all blood drain from his limbs. If Malfoy had known the full truth, he never have acted like this. Malfoy must’ve remembered just a fragment of it all; He didn’t actually know what had happened during the summer. He must’ve thought that whatever it had been – all the fooling around – they’d actually sorted it out. The thought of it filled Harry with dread. Harry felt a panic rising.

“Why did you kiss me if you didn’t want to get back to what we had during the summer?” Malfoy asked. He sounded too honest and Harry couldn’t answer the question. He was painfully reminded of that one afternoon when he could’ve stayed and figured out together with Malfoy what it was that they wanted.

Malfoy moved even further back. The hesitation was back for a flash but then turned immediately into anger.

Harry was giving into the panic and his heart fluttered painfully. _Malfoy had come to him. Malfoy had actually come to him and now he was turning away._ Harry couldn’t afford letting Malfoy go this time, because he would not get a second chance to get to the information Malfoy was privileged to. But if he would tell Malfoy that whatever he was remembering was just a fraction of what had happened and it was all wrong, the only way Malfoy could react was by lashing out. With a certainty and dread, Harry knew that he really didn’t have a choice here. Last time, it had been Malfoy who’d led them. This time, Harry had the power, but it made him ill. He didn’t want to deal with this situation. He wanted to once again just bolt, but he couldn’t now, could he? If he hadn’t run away in the summer, they wouldn’t be here, stuck in a situation where Harry knew too much and Malfoy too little. Harry hated the thought of taking advantage of anyone, even Malfoy, like this.

Maybe they could’ve sorted things out. Maybe they could’ve understood what it was that had brought them together that time during the summer. Because if they had, maybe there was more to this than Harry giving Malfoy what he thought he wanted as a payment for the information he hoped to get. Maybe this knowledge would help Harry feel better about this.

“Nothing has changed,” Harry lied. “I want you to remember the summer. I want to help you do that.”

Malfoy looked still hesitant, but he no longer looked ready to bolt. “Then you are better get ready to pull one of your usual miracles. Next time I go home, it’s not going to be gentle probing of my mind to find out what I know. My father has exhausted all other options, but he needs to know what happened. I’ve heard cruciatus is a good way of breaking through obliviate,” Malfoy said, his voice calm. Somehow, he didn’t sound upset about the prospect of getting tortured.

“He wouldn’t,” Harry protested fully well knowing that Lucius Malfoy _would_.

“The fact that I somehow managed to lose all my memories of the three weeks I was away, right before telling anything of any use, doesn’t make me a good son, does it?” Malfoy said. “My father thinks I switched sides during the summer. For him, getting access to my memories is now more important than my wellbeing. I don’t really get why it is any different for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Potter. That little trick you did can’t give me all my memories back. Shut up, Potter, and listen to me now,” Malfoy said just as Harry let a small whimper of a protest. It died immediately. “The memories are gone. The ones you want me to remember, and whatever I knew about my father’s plans. That doesn’t make me much of an asset to your side.”

“I-“ Harry started.

“You don’t think like that?” Malfoy asked, but Harry didn’t need to answer. “It was the only reason why you wanted to talk to me. Or I was sure it would be, before, well, this. Before I got a glimpse of the summer. How did this even happen?”

Harry felt the guilt weighing down on him and had to look away. “You started teaching me occulemency.”

“And you were miserable at it,” Malfoy said and Harry could hear the smile in his words. “I don’t remember, but the answer is easy enough to guess to. Was I any good as a teacher?”

“Too good, probably.”

Malfoy watched with a smirk as Harry squirmed under his gaze. “The only thing I remembered before is that I chose to forget,” he then volunteered. “Finding that out did not make my father or anyone else happy. There’s one thing you need to understand, Potter. There’s no way I will return alive from Christmas Break if father hears about us two talking.”

“But you worship your father,” Harry said, disbelieving every word he heard, and oddly, wanting to hear more.

“I happen to worship my own life even more,” Malfoy replied. “It hasn’t been the best of summers and I’ve had room to re-evaluate. The fact that their disappearing trick was done without me was not all that pleasant. That afterwards I’ve been nothing but a suspected traitor after being nothing but loyal through all of my life? Neither a good incentive.”

“So you would betray them because they think you already did? Isn’t that just slightly ironical?”

“I’m not blind to the irony.” 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Keep me alive and I’ll share what I know,” Malfoy spoke the words like there wouldn’t have been anything to them but the silence that followed them was anything but light. Harry tried to carefully look at Malfoy and see what he was up to, but once again, he couldn’t read anything in controlled expression. Malfoy seemed to interpret Harry’s silence as him not believing. “Do you really need more than a heartfelt, sincere admission that I’d prefer you side for the time being?”

“I’m not sure you’re capable of heartfelt and sincere,” Harry replied, almost automatically. “It’s uh... I came here to make you trust me and now it’s you trying to convince me.”

“Well, you should’ve actually thought through what you were doing for once,” Malfoy said. “Did you actually have a plan what to do if I was willing to talk to you?”

“I. Uh. No, I didn’t think that far,” Harry admitted and could, to his horror, feel his cheeks start burning. How had the tables turned so clearly to Malfoy’s favour? “I guess I was going to offer you help with getting your memory back.”

“And how were you planning to do that? I promise you that everything that can usually break through an obliviate has been tried.”

“Hermione might find something-“ Harry suggested, but was interrupted by a scornful tsk.

“I hardly doubt that a mudblood like her has better resources than my family already does,” Malfoy said. The words were said so casually that Malfoy didn’t even seem to register them as something out of the ordinary. Harry wanted to protest and tell Malfoy to shut up because Hermione was worth much more than all the Malfoy wealth put together, but he couldn’t. The situation had finally caught up with him. This was Malfoy. Harry knew that it didn’t matter how many times he stood up for Hermione, Malfoy didn’t care. Malfoy didn’t care about anyone else than himself - and somehow Harry had allowed himself to get involved. During the summer, Harry had allowed himself to think that there could be something unexpected about him. Harry had allowed Malfoy to come between him and his friends.

Malfoy was still completely oblivious to the sickening spiral that Harry’s thoughts had been caught in when he decided that they were done with this discussion. “Keep me safe, Potter, and I’ll see what I can do to you,” he said and those words implied way too many things at once. “Don’t do anything stupid like trying to contact me. On second thoughts, don’t even look at my direction. I don’t want anyone to hear about _any of this.”_

“How do you think I can do anything for you if I cannot tell anyone that you’d be interested in getting their help?” Harry asked, not really expecting an answer.

“You’ll figure something out,” Malfoy replied. He flicked his wand and the little light went out. It was dark for a short moment before Malfoy reached for the door and pushed it slightly ajar. He paused then and without turning to look at Harry, he said, “Stay put here until I’m safely away and no-one can make any connection between us two.”  He didn’t wait to hear what Harry thought of the plan.

Harry waited until the door close again before he closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. His mouth felt dry. This had been what he’d wanted. He’d invited this to himself. If this had been the price that had been necessary to buy Malfoy’s co-operation, he’d been willing to pay it. He shouldn’t dwell on this any more, what was done was truly done. The question that remained was if Malfoy had truly been convinced and this wasn’t all a sickening plot on his part.

That thought gave Harry a pause and a lurching feeling gripped his stomach. This time, it was unlikely that Malfoy was to blame. Malfoy didn’t know what had happened during the summer – _he didn’t remember! –_ and it was Harry who’d allowed Malfoy to believe that there was any reason for an alliance.  Harry was to blame. Malfoy would feel horrible if he’d ever find out that Harry had played him like this.

Keeping this from everyone was in both Harry’s and Malfoy’s interest. Harry only had to keep quiet now and wait to see if Malfoy came with something of use. While they were at Hogwarts, there was little that Harry could do and little Malfoy should fear for. Christmas break was a clear deadline for it all; Harry had over a month now before he had to have any sort of plan. He could do it.

One calming breath later, Harry reached for the door and left the Room of Requirement.

XXX

Ron demanded to know what Harry had been up to the first thing in the morning. Hermione too, got immediately curious about where Harry had disappeared in the evening.

“I just needed to think,” Harry said weakly, but knew neither of his friends bought the lie.

“Oh, come on, Harry. You can tell us. Who did you meet up with?” Ron cajoled. “Ginny said that you looked very much snogged when you got back yesterday.”

“I didn’t realise she was still up when I got back”, Harry said in horror. He didn’t know what was worse – that Ginny had seen him that night or that the story was now making rounds. So much for keeping everything quiet.

“Is something wrong, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Uh,” Harry started, then paused. He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to tell them either. “I’m just not sure about what happened yesterday. I’ll need some time to sort it out. But I’ll tell you the moment I figure it out, okay?”

Harry was grateful that he had friends who knew when not top push further. Ron smiled and then allowed them to move on. “Ravenclaw has their game against Hufflepuff tomorrow. Do you think Ravenclaws are ready to fight for the house cup?” Ron said. It couldn’t have been more obviously an attempt to change the topic, but Harry took the bait gladly.

“They don’t stand a chance. Have you seen how Hufflepuff beaters have upped the game this year?”

As they’d agreed on, Harry made no attempt to contact Malfoy event though he feverishly wanted to do something. After the initial interrogation, neither Ron nor Hermione tried to fish information from him, but Harry was painfully aware that he was keeping secrets again. He knew better, but when he couldn’t explain the situation to himself, he could hardly explain it to anyone else either.

Besides, there wasn’t really anything to tell yet. Once Harry had something concrete, he would have to tell somebody. But that was a bridge he would cross once he got there.

 

 


	13. Answers at the end of the road

The whole of Hogwarts was on their way towards Hogsmeade and Harry had managed to push his worries further back in his mind for the time being. He had a plan of sorts: When the time came, he would hide Malfoy at Grimmauld Place. It had worked before and it would work again. There were still two weeks left before the Christmas Holiday and besides a few meaningful looks Malfoy had given Harry when there had been no-one else to see it, they’d kept their distance. It was easier all around: Harry’s feelings of guilt had subsided considerably. He would come clear once Malfoy had told them everything he knew and once Harry could guarantee his safety. Until then, Harry could focus on living his own life. It felt good to get back to the old routine and Harry found himself smiling easily as he and Ron discussed the advances that the Weasley twins were making with their wares and how they might soon own a store in Hogsmeade as well, a thought surely terrifying to Filch.

They’d reached the main street when Harry first noticed Malfoy. Even at a distance, Malfoy looked uneasy. He was walking with brisk steps, determined to get out of the crowd, heading away from all the usual student destinations. There was clearly something wrong. Harry wasn’t just imagining it because Hermione picked up on it too. “Is that Malfoy?” she asked, drawing also Ron’s attention to the sight. “He seems to be in a hurry.”

“He must be up to no good again,” Ron said and pushed his hands in his pockets. “It’s too bad that he lost all the progress he made at being a human being during the summer.”

Harry silently agreed. All of this would be so much easier if Malfoy did remember the summer, the whole summer, and his life wouldn’t have to be a nest of lies. However, Harry wasn’t sure what to think now. Malfoy had managed to convince Harry before that he was sincerely looking for a way out. That did not mean that Ron couldn’t be right now, however. Malfoy did look like he was about to do something questionable.

However, the thought of the three of them heading after Malfoy did not feel right to Harry. The deal that Malfoy had made was with Harry, and he was not ashamed of it – he just preferred Hermione and Ron not figuring out just how it had been struck. Instead of encouraging them to quickly go in pursuit, Harry shrugged. “I don’t know what his deal is,” he said.

“Are you sure you don't want to go after him?” Hermione asked. Harry turned to look at her, surprised. “You are usually a lot more eager to follow him.”

Harry blinked. “I’ve spent enought time watching after him this year. Besides, I'm already feeling cold. Would you two mind if I head for the Three Broomsticks and wait for you guys there?”

Hermione looked worried, but Ron glanced at her and shrugged. “We’ll survive,” he said and gave Harry a private smile when Hermione didn’t see. “Come on, Hermione. He doesn’t have to go everywhere with us if he doesn’t want to.”

Ron managed to tug Hermione with him and the two of them headed towards Honeydukes. Harry dutifully did start towards the Three Broomstick and only deviated from the path when he knew that he couldn’t be caught. Malfoy was at this point long gone, but judging from the direction Malfoy had been heading, Harry had a hunch that he should check the Hog’s Head. He made the journey without incidents and as he pushed the door open, he anxiously looked through the sparse clientele for the familiar blond hair. He found Malfoy immediately.

Malfoy was alone, sitting at a table that fell into shadow. He had his eyes closed, but his eyes snapped open the moment Harry took a step towards him. Harry sat down on the opposite side of the table, ignoring the stares that he was attracting the best he could. Harry was breaking every rule of their agreement, but oddly enough, this time he did not feel guilty. Malfoy had not wanted him here - who knew what he had thought he would get away with. “Everything alright?” Harry asked, eager to hear Malfoy's explanation why he'd hurry here.

“I am fine, Potter,” Malfoy answered, but he looked unsure about his answer. Confused, even.

“You are obvisouly up to someth-“ Harry started, but never got to finish. There was a sudden, loud bang and the door opened with a forceful spell that not only threw the door open but threw also the tables closest to it and the people sitting at them in air. Harry ducked down and when the next spell was used to stop those who’d tried to get away in their tracks, an unfamiliar man stumbled into Harry, hard, and he could feel his glasses bending askew and then tumble down before he crashed against the wall, ultimately ending on the floor. A cold feeling gripped his stomach. Harry franticly felt the table and bench next to him, searching for his glasses, before he realised that he’d probably have better luck by using accio. He never got that far. Harry didn’t need his glasses to recognise the all too familiar black robes and masked faces of Death Eaters as three of them came to his table.

Harry quickly pointed his wand towards the group, but he wasn’t fast enough. He was disarmed easily and could hear his wand shoot somewhere out of reach, followed by laughter.

“What do we have here?” asked an amused female voice. Harry couldn’t really place her – he wished he had his glasses so that he could get down the details of their faces. “Harry Potter, down on the floor in front of a Malfoy. So nice of you to help us out, Draco,” she continued with, her tone turning mocking. Harry looked up to see Malfoy pointing his wand towards the group, but as he watched Malfoy lowered his wand and looked at Harry.

“You fooled me,” Harry said as the realisation hit him.

He didn’t get to say anything more as from somewhere out of his sight someone hit him with a curse that paralysed him. He fell to the floor, feeling numb. He had walked right into this one. He stared at Malfoy, but couldn’t see his face. Malfoy faced the Death Eater’s without faltering, standing confident.

“Someone grab Draco. We need to go now,” said one of the Death Eaters. One of them took hold of Malfoy’s arm while the woman crouched next to Harry and took a firm hold of his ankle. Harry was unable to anything in his paralysed state and could only watch as he was unceremoniously dragged for a short distance before he and his capturer were engulfed in green flames.

The next thing Harry knew was that he was lying on a cold stone floor, face down, carelessly discarded. He had landed badly and for once he was thankful for the lack of glasses. His face hurt even without having had the glasses broken and smashed underneath him. Harry was allowed to lay still for a while and he could pick up a few details even without being able to turn or really look up. The fireplace that they had come through was large and ornamented. The room itself felt large as well. He was also far from alone. Besides the people that had grabbed him, there were plenty of other people waiting for them. Harry watched people’s shadows move and listened to the odd silence that surrounded them: There was something reverent to it.

A door opened and Harry did not need to see who had entered to know the answer. A dull throbbing that had disappeared under other aches turned in a sharp, screaming headache. Harry hardly noticed when someone used their foot to kick him around so that he could face Lord Voldemort. Unnaturally pale, red eyes staring right through to Harry’s soul, the thin lips twisted into a satisfied smile - he was just as horrifying as Harry remembered. Voldemort gave a signal with his hand and immediately a strong pair or arms hosted Harry up to his feet and then held him there because he was too weak to stand on his own. The spell that had kept him still was lifted, but when Harry tried to struggle against the hold on him, it only tightened and effortlessly kept him from getting away.

“Our guest has arrived,” Voldemort said with his thin, high voice. There was laughter in the room. “Welcome, Harry Potter.”

Harry struggled to see straight with the pain crushing his head, but he tried to struggle away anyway, twisting and trashing, looking for an escape. The room was a large dining hall, expensively decorated in dark hues with two sets of large doors leading into it, both of them now standing closed. A large dining table dominated the room but no-one was sitting by it. Instead, a large group of death eaters had gathered to gawk Harry while others hung back closer to the walls. Standing in the shadow, behind Voldemort, Harry saw the Malfoys, Narcissa standing still, face unreadable, and Lucius Malfoy holding a hand on Draco Malfoy’s shoulder, Lucius looking stern and Draco petrified.

“Ah, I can see that everything beccomes clear to you now,” Voldemort said and smiled. He turned to look at the Malfoys and then back at Harry, his satisfaction plain for everyone to see. “Dumbledore’s weakness has always been to trust and to forgive. I do not,” he said and pointed his wand at Harry and calmly added, “ _Cruciatus.”_

The hands that had been holding upright let go of Harry the moment the spell hit. He crashed on the floor with his body convulsing with the pain. He screamed, because there was no choice not to. No. There was no end to the agony that twisted his body and made it impossible to breath. He wanted to die here. He would die here. He- He could not think. He could only scream.

When the curse was lifted, Harry lay still and made no attempt to get up. He knew he should, but he was trembling all over. Malfoy had led him to a trap, and he’d been a fool not to let anyone know that he was heading there. There would be no rescue because he’d trusted Malfoy. How many times had he been fooled over? Had the summer been an elaborate plan? Had the memory loss been just a rouse? Had Malfoy used Harry’s need to get close to him again against him?

“It is so simple to deceive,” Voldemort said like he’d read Harry’s thoughts. Maybe he had. Harry had put everything on the line to learn to conceal his thoughts, but it had all lead him here. Here… “Ah, the boy wonders where he has been brought,” Voldemort said, confirming Harry’s suspicion. The words where met with laughter again. “Get him up. Let him appreciate the surroundings.”

Once more, Harry was hosted up. This time he was forced to look even closer to where they were. On closer inspection, it was a miracle he’d missed such an obvious clue earlier. Carved into the wall, right at the centre of the room, was the family crest of the Malfoys. At first, Harry struggled against the idea. The Malfoy Manor had burned down. He’d twice seen it with his own eyes. There had been nothing but ruins. This must’ve been somewhere else, some other place that belonged to the Malfoy family, but even that logical solution did not feel right. Voldemort was obviously pleased with their location, with the shock that it was causing Harry… This had to be Malfoy Manor. Somehow.

“It was simple to cast a spell over it to twist the reality and to deceive everyone’s eyes,” Voldemort said. “It is pitiful how easily most people are ready to believe. Nothing but a glamour and a few spells to turn the curious people away, making them sure that there is nothing of value in front of their eyes. So pitifull...”

“But why?” Harry croaked. His throat was dry from the screaming. Once again, their audience seemed amused but they waited for Voldemort to give him answer. Voldemort seemed to feel like humouring Harry's questions.

“Once a magical house burns down, it is no longer under the supervision of the Ministry. It provides an untraceable access to anywhere the fireplace has been connected and Lucius here has offered his services to many before me and opened the door into the heart of many Wizarding locations.” At this, Lucius made an uncomfortable bow but Voldemort did not acknowledge it. The Malfoys did not seem to be in a favourable standing anymore. Draco must’ve fought to change the situation, befriending Harry to betray him… “I am tired of questions now.”

Harry tried to look defiant. He had no wand, he had no way of escape, but if Voldemort planned to kill him now, Harry would not cover in fear in front of him. “The time for that will be later,” Volemort said. “We can have plenty of time together before it,” he said and cast cruciatus again.

xxx

Harry was surprised to find himself alive. He could hardy move. All power had drained from his muscles and he was a pitiful ball of misery, but he was still breathing. Voldemort had toyed with him, casting a cruciatus when he felt like it, leaving him gasping for air in-between curses, then seemingly forgetting him for a while to focus on discussing his plans with his followers. Harry did not know when he’d passed out or where he’d been brought after it.

He should find out. He should escape. He should to get back to the Order to tell them that they’d been right about fireplaces being the key to everything.

Harry tried to push himself up, but even doing that much proved to be impossible. He let a pitiful whimper and fell back down on the floor.

“Potter,” came a whisper. There was the sound of someone moving closer and then there was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He cried in pain. The hand quickly withdrew. “Potter, get up. You need to get up.”

Harry opened his eyes. Draco Malfoy was kneeling on the floor in front of him. If Harry hadn’t known better, he’d said Malfoy was looking scared.

“Here waiting to mock me?” Harry asked in a hoarse whisper. He let a huff of a laughter and then immediately regretted it. It felt like he was covered in bruises all over and his chest felt constrained, causing every word to hurt. Still, there were things he wanted to say. “You knew all the time, didn’t you? The Manor, still standing. Your parents, still alive. You played us. You lied to me.”

“I didn’t,” Malfoy said, still keeping his voice down. ”I admit, I did try to find a way to make you like me so that you would protect me. I thought I was alone.”  Harry watched as Malfoy hesitated before saying, “You need to trust me.”

“Why would I?” Harry asked bitterly. “I tried that twice before. If you remember.”

Malfoy was silent once again. He glanced over his shoulder at a door, which lay on the other side or bars. Dungeons. They were in the dungeons. There was no-one watching over them, but Harry knew he was not getting through solid iron bars without a wand and in this condition. Malfoy turned back to Harry again. “I do remember,” he said silently. “I remember now,” he repeated and his voice sounded strained.

“That’s convenient,” Harry sad.

“No, no it’s not,” Malfoy replied. He looked angry now. “They tortured it out of me. _He_ tortured it out of me. My father couldn’t… but he could,” Malfoy said. “They know what I did. They know what I _thought._ ” The anger turned into panic. Once again, Malfoy glanced behind himself at the door like he was expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

“You can drop the act now,” Harry said. He gathered all his strength and forced himself to sit up, grimacing as his body reminded him of the pain that it had just gone through. “I know you fooled me out to the Hog’s Head. You did it all to get back into Voldemort’s favour.”

"I did not want to go there," Malfoy whispered.

“At which point will I realise that this is all an elaborate vision, made to mess up with me?” Harry asked the room.

“Potter, shut up,” Malfoy hissed. “I’m not sticking around and if I leave here without you, I’m not going garner too much sympathy. You need to trust me. I’m your best bet of getting out of here.”

Harry felt almost petulant, but he could not stop himself from saying, “Still not trusting you. I’ll get myself out of here. Preferrably alone.” If Malfoy was serious, he was most likely Harry’s best bet out of here. However, Harry could not think of a scenario where he was willing to trust that Malfoy had had a change of heart, again.

Malfoy looked over his shoulder again. When he turned back, he fixed Harry with a determined stare. “Potter, you can cast legilimency on me to make sure.”

Harry was about to protest that he did not have his wand and then he realised that neither did Malfoy, or if he had it, he had hidden it well. Harry had successfully cast the spell many times now without one, but in his current state, it had been the last thing he’d thought about. Malfoy looked sincere and a lack of wand did make Harry more willing to buy his story. Harry could not think of any way this could make his situation worse and so he croaked the word ‘ _legilimence’_. Malfoy was not struggling against it. Harry looked for a sign of insincerity, something that would’ve betrayed Malfoy’s real intents, but all Harry could find was that Malfoy was _terrified_. _Voldemort had laughed at Lucius when he’d said that he’d done everything he could to learn what had happened during the weeks that Malfoy had been missing. Voldemort had looked at Lucius with discontent. "Even giving your home has not taught you humility'," Voldemort lamented. Then he'd turned to look at Malfoy and the world exploded in pain, so much pain that Harry had to back out, look elsewhere find something else to hold on to and_

_He found the memory of Malfoy leaving Grimmauld Place. The place was cold and unwelcoming. Malfoy knew he’d messed it up completely. He’d pushed too far, he’d misread the situation. Speaking with Severus had given him a sense of hope that everything would turn out alright and so he’d dared to take a risk with Potter that he would not have otherwise taken. Everything had gone better than he’d dared to hope and then somehow it had turned all wrong. Now Malfoy was left alone in the empty house, waiting for Potter to be back and send him packing. He didn’t know where he could go. He had no backup plan and in his brief moment of relief, he’d messed everything up._

_Then, disordering time seemed to skip, and Malfoy was standing in front of a window, staring at a great black owl that was handing him a piece of parchment. He knew the owl. He’d thought the owl to have died in the fire or left them permanently after it. It did not look even slightly singed. With shaking hands, he took the letter. He broke the familiar Malfoy seal and opened the letter. An overwhelming wave of emotions took over him, a mix of anger and gut-wrenching longing and fear. ‘Dearest Draco,’ the letter began. ‘We’ve tried to reach you, but until know could not risk sending an owl. For the time being, Bella had invited us to her home. We are waiting for you.’ Malfoy burned the letter right there and then headed towards the kitchen. At the fireplace, he hesitated. He took some floo-powder and stepped into the fireplace. Then, right before he cast the powder on the ground he took something out of his pocket and ate it. The memory grew faint immediately and Harry backed away, looking for clues what happened next.  
_

_Next, Harry recognised the morning right before Harry had dragged Malfoy back to the Manor to fetch his broom._ You owe me _. Malfoy waited when Harry looked away and then tried to gently nudge his thoughts towards the right direction._ Figure out a way to pay your debts. Something that makes you think of me as a friend _. Harry looked up and Malfoy quickly tried to look like he hadn't just stared at Harry, trying to readjust his thoughts into something clearer, something more determined. And then Harry smiled and for a moment Malfoy did not know if he'd succeeded or failed, but then Harry offered to go to the Manor again, as a friendly favour, no strings attached and Malfoy felt relieved._

_The overwhelming sense of relief led Harry to the next memory even when he wasn't looking for it. Suddenly, Harry stumbled on an image of kittens, rolling on the floor, letting little pitiful squeaks as they tried to climb up every possible surface. Weirdly layered with this memory was the afternoon when Malfoy had first started teaching Potter occulemency, as if seen through the haze of the image Malfoy used to block what he was really thinking. Everything in this memory was seeped through with a sense of relief; If Malfoy could be of use, he might find allies even here. He would do whatever it took to keep Potter seeing him valuable. Despite all their differences, Potter was not turning him down._

Harry withdrew. Malfoy looked scared and hopeful at the same time and Harry was unsure what to say for a moment. He- He no longer doubted Malfoy’s sincerity. The desperate fear he’d had when he’d stayed at Grimmauld Place had felt too real, too much like admitting a vulnerability that Harry could not imagine Malfoy conjuring it for him. The sense of relief Malfoy had felt when Harry had fallen for his manipulation still lingered in Harry's mind. He should've been disgusted by it, but right now he understood it too well. When cornered with no way out, any hand extended in friendship was worth the prize. Harry looked at Malfoy who was still waiting for his answer and made his mind. “Do you have a plan of getting us out?"

Malfoy nodded. He reached for his pocket and took out a small napkin, carefully folded. When he opened it, Harry could see the familiar glow of remember-me-not’s pushing through. There were just a few flowers left and they were crumbled, the glow very faint but told Harry that it must've been night time already. “They took my wand and they took my portkey, but they didn’t think of taking this,” Malfoy said quietly. “We only need to get whoever comes in next to believe that they should let me out and I can get my portkey back. They only need to forget a few hours,” Malfoy explained.

“That’s what you used to forget,” Harry said, realising what he’d seen Malfoy do earlier in the memory.

“It’s a lot more potent than a regular obliviate,” Malfoy said and he sounded almost proud of himself. “You can't revert it as easily,” he added with grimace.

Harry looked from the glowing remember-me-nots to the door and then back to Malfoy. “Do you think it’ll work?”

“It’s the best we got,” Malfoy replied. He pushed himself up and only now could Harry see how slowly he moved. The memory had been clear enough, but Malfoy hid things very well. He had, all through the summer. Harry had realised that something was not right, but not understood what it was. However, Malfoy did not give them more time to discuss what had happened between them. He went to the metal bars separating them from freedom and called out as loud as he could, “Potter is awake!”

Harry was hit by a sinking feeling, but when Malfoy turned to look at him, Harry knew he should trust him this time.

The door opened not long after and a large man that Harry knew he’d seen in a most wanted picture on the cover of the Prophet once upon a time entered. He smiled an ugly smile as he saw Harry staring at him and then looked at Malfoy. “You keep doing what you are told and you might get to live after all,” he said. “Get out of the way,” he then grumbled and Malfoy dutifully moved back.

However, when the man did step inside the bars, heading straight towards Harry, Malfoy moved in. Harry scrambled up to his feet and managed to barely stay upright with shaking legs. The Death Eater lunged towards Harry just as Malfoy lunged towards him. Malfoy pressed the flowers he’d held in the napkin onto the man’s bare neck, trying to get them on his face again and then backing in panic when the man turned around in anger.

Harry wondered if he should try to tackle the man even though he had no chance of succeeding. He was too weak and the man was too robustly built. He could only watch in panic as Malfoy clearly went through his options, backing away until he hit the wall and then, the man suddenly stopped. Malfoy’s transformation was immediate. He rushed to grab the man’s wand, run over to Harry and took a firm hold of his arm and poked him into the ribs with the stolen wand. The man turned around, looking confused.

“What is it, Rabastan?“ Malfoy asked. His voice was shaking slightly.

Rabastan blinked.

“I’ll take Potter back to the Dark Lord. You should stay here to stand guard,” Malfoy said. He did not stop to see if his lie had been bought and started pushing Harry forward. Harry stumbled, but Malfoy pulled him back up. Behind them, the man was quickly recovering from his overdose of remember-me-nots, but did not come after them. Harry could hardly believe their luck.

When Malfoy opened the door, Harry realised that they were far from safe. The house was filled with Death Eaters. Their only escape plan was to find Malfoy’s portkey, which had been taken from him. Did Malfoy even know where it was now? Malfoy tightened his grip on Harry’s arm and pushed him forward own the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked in a desperate whisper.

“To the kitchen. Quickly,“ he let go of Harry then and when Harry was about to fall, rushed to wrap an arm around his waist. Together, they limped down the hallway which was now empty, but would surely not stay that for long. Harry thought he heard footsteps behind every corner, but when they reached the door that Malfoy had been leading them to, they had still to be caught. Rabastan would surely head back to Voldemort soon and realise that something was wrong. They couldn’t have any moment to lose…

The kitchen was empty. Malfoy let go of Harry and he unceremoniously leaned to the kitchen table, his legs barely carrying him that far. Malfoy then looked around once more before whispering, “Nibbly, get here.”

A loud bang followed. Harry stared as a house elf appeared in front of him. It stared back, eyes wide and terrified. It quickly turned to Malfoy, looking for guidance.

“Don’t tell anyone we are here,” Malfoy said. “I need you to find me my portkey. Quickly and without anyone noticing you.”

The elf shut its mouth and was gone in a blink of an eye.

“That’s your plan?”

“She’ll find it,” Malfoy said. “I’ve had her find in plenty of times.”

She did not return immediately. Harry wanted to ask Malfoy many questions, but his mind was so scrambled that he didn’t know where to start. Malfoy stared at the door, his hand twitching, the stolen wand shaking. When the second bang followed, Harry let go of a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding back and watched in wonder as Nibbly presented the little portkey to Malfoy. One glance From Malfoy at Harry, and Harry stumbled over there, falling onto the floor.

You can go now,” Malfoy said to Nibbly. He took the portkey and reached out for Harry, locking the key between Harry’s hand and his own. The pull of the portkey was immediate. If Harry disliked travel by portkey on a good day, he nearly passed out now and upon the worlds expanding to its normal size at the other end promptly gagged, fighting down the nausea.

He looked up. Right in front of him was the door to the Grimmauld Place 12.

“Get up, Potter. We need to get inside to be safe,” Malfoy said and tried to drag Harry up to his feet. Climbing the few steps seemed to take forever, but somehow they made it. Harry was the one to step in first – Malfoy allowed him to do it and hang back – and was thus also the one that Sirius saw first, which made him rush towards them, stop Harry from falling again and then drag him to the nearest place where he could sit down before he even seemed to realise that Harry hadn't showed up alone.

“What happened? We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Sirius said. He was turning Harry’s head from side to side, looking at the bruises and scratches that Harry was covered in.

“Voldemort,” Harry said. “You need to let the Order know. They are hiding at Malfoy Manor. It’s been hidden away. They’ve used the fireplace to-“

Sirius was up and heading to the fireplace to send the message before Harry had even finished. Harry leaned to the handrail of the stairs and closed his eyes. He was alive. He couldn’t ask for more.

There was the sound of someone moving uneasily closer. Harry looked up to see Malfoy look around himself, then at Harry, as if asking if should he leave now. But he did not move towards the door.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Harry said. “Thank you.”

Malfoy shook his head. “I’m sorry. I knew that he is dangerous. I never thought I’d end up…” On the wrong side. “I don’t know what to do now.”

As Harry lookedd up at Malfoy, hew knew that here was finally a moment for them to talk. For a moment, they were in a place that was undetectable and safe. Sirius was relaying their information to the Order, which gave them a few precious moments alone. They both remembered everything, and Harry had been allowed to see part of Malfoy’s side of the story through his memories and thoughts. It was either now or never, Harry thought and pushed through his uncertainty. “I’m sorry too,” he said.

Malfoy had clearly not expected those words. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Harry shook his head. “We wouldn’t have been in this mess if I hadn’t freaked out,” Harry said. “Whatever reason you had, you tried to change,” Harry continued. “If that is what you are truly willing to do, I’m ready to hear you out. You saved my life. You saved Sirius’ life.” Harry expected Malfoy to say that none of it counted, that there was too much he had to make up for, but he was wrong.

Malfoy smiled. “You do owe me quite a lot,” he said. “The least you can do now is to keep me safe.”

“We will. I will,” Harry said, raising up to the challenge. Then he decided to take the leap that had terrified him too much during the summer that he had messed everything up. “If you need protection, you will get it, no price attached, but I- ” Harry paused and looked away, feeling his cheeks burn. “I want you to know that even if was all to manipulate me, I didn’t hate it. In fact, I rather hated that you forgot all about it.” There it was. He knew now that he'd been manipulated; Somehow it did not matter. Although he could not be sure why he and Malfoy had grown closer, they had. Malfoy had twisted his thoughts, pushed Harry to do something that he would not otherwise have thought possible, but now Harry wanted to know how far this could go.

Even if Harry been vague with his words, Malfoy had clearly picked up what Harry was talking about. Then, hesitatingly, he said, “It wasn’t entirely for manipulation.”

Harry already knew that. In Malfoy's thoughts, Harry had seen that moving the game of dare from simple images to reality had been a miscalculation, and act driven by something that Harry was now too curious about for his own good. Harry bit his lip. The sensible thing to do here would be to say that they should forget and move on, but forgetting it hadn’t helped them earlier. Harry rather hoped that this time around they would both be able to remember everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes.


End file.
